


IronDad Bingo

by seekrest



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, I put the boys through it in this one, Irondad Bingo 2019, Mild Language, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-07-11 11:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19927570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: Old collection of IronDad Bingo Promots.





	1. Angst.

“PETER!”

Tony yells, sending all power to his thrusters as Rhodey trails after him. He can hear that Rhodey is talking to him, can pick out a few words that resemble “calm” and “stop” and “wait”.

But Tony can’t hear anything, can’t focus on anyone other than the visual of Peter - mask off, eyes closed and too much blood dripping down his face - being held up by some alien freak. 

He regrets letting Peter join in, regrets inviting Peter out to the lab, regrets even meeting him - if only for the terror that was now gripping him, the horror of watching as Peter - who had been knocked out, injured, and then sent hurtling off a building, just out of Tony’s reach.

It’s a game, a test between himself, Peter and gravity.

Peter always talked about the thrill of jumping off a building, sending off a web that would catapult him higher into the air.

The thought of it made Tony’s stomach twist into knots, the idea of Peter missing a swing, of being distracted or for a web to snap - sending Peter on a downward spiral that no one would be able to save him from. 

So this - Peter, unconscious, facing upward as he falls seemingly faster and faster to his death - makes Tony’s heart clench, his entire being radiating with anxiety and dread.

“PETER. Wake up kid! Wake up dammit!” Tony wills for his suit to go faster, prays to any deity that will listen that his tech could be faster, that Peter would open his eyes. 

But it’s all just a little too late. 

They're falling - flying - faster than ever, Tony can hear Rhodey right behind him. Tony extends his hand out, can almost swear he feels the brush of Peter’s fingertips. 

He’s completely blindsided by the shot of energy to his left, the shock and pain of it immediately disorienting him and sending him out of the air. 

Before he even gets the chance to think or react, Tony hits the ground with a thud and falls straight into the black.

* * *

He comes to what he later learned would only be minutes later, but for the pounding headache he has, felt like hours. 

“Tony, come on man.” His eyes blink open, faceplate dematerializing as he sees Rhodey in front of him.

“Rhodes?”

“You alright man?” 

Tony blinks for a half-second, trying to get his wits about him.

He’d been falling, no-- flying. Alien shit, some minion on the top of a building. It had flung Peter--

Tony gasps, eyes frantic as he grips Rhodey’s arm. 

“Peter?” 

The look is all Tony needs to know. Tony looks past Rhodey’s shoulder, heart and stomach sinking at the sight. 

Because there he is. 

Peter.

Sprawled out on a car, crushed in a million, miserable ways - molded to Peter’s broken, limp body. 

“NO!”

Tony scrambles, Rhodey trying to hold him down. 

“Tony, Tony, man--”

“MOVE!” Tony lunges himself forward, his body aching from the harsh and sudden fall. But Tony doesn’t care, can’t focus on anything but Peter.

Peter, sprawled out over a vehicle. 

Peter, whose blood Tony could see was trickling down. 

Peter, who wasn’t moving. 

He can feel Rhodey’s grip on him, the cold and firm metal holding him into place. He turns to Rhodey, a venomous glare. 

“Let me go.” 

“Tony.”

“LET ME GO. Let me go dammit, I need---” Tony starts to wheeze, the shock and the horror of what he’d seen settling in.

Rhodey immediately goes into action, trying and failing to get Tony to breathe.

“Tony, come on. Tony, look at me. Look at me, breathe. Breathe for me.”

Tony gasps, the panic completely overriding all his other senses. The image of Peter falling, eyes closed and already looking battered from a hit to the head that had knocked him out cold. 

The kid’s eyes had already been closed when he fell, were still closed from what Tony had seen.

A small voice whispered, a question of whether he’d ever see Peter’s eyes open again. 

The thought sends Tony into a tailspin, clutching his chest as eyes wildy search Rhodey’s. 

“Tony.” 

It’s the last thing Tony hears before he sinks into the darkness once more. 

* * *

Tony wakes up in the medbay, Pepper’s hand loosely in his. 

He feels disoriented, sore in all the wrong places as he stirs, the movement waking Pepper up. 

“Pep?” 

“I’m here, Tony.” She says automatically, eyes blinking away the sleep she’d likely only gotten accidentally. 

“What’s… what--”

“You were hit. Some kind of energy blast, Steve mentioned it sent you right out of the sky.” 

Tony blinks, the panic coming out of nowhere. 

“Peter?” 

Pepper’s face shifts, the sight of it breaking Tony’s. No. No. It can’t. Peter can’t. He wasn’t. 

“Pepper.” 

“It’s bad, Tony.” The grief is immediate, consuming. The heart rate monitor starts to beep louder, Pepper glancing at it. 

“But he’s alive.” Tony gasps, her grip in his tightening. 

“He’s alive. But it’s… it’s not looking good, Tony.” Tears start to form in his eyes, the idea - the sheer impossibility of Peter not making it. Of Peter…

No. He can’t. He wouldn’t. Peter wouldn’t die. 

Not again. 

Not right there, just out of Tony’s grasp. 

A choked sob is all that comes out of his mouth, Pepper putting a hand to his face.

Tony’s eyes search the ceiling, wishing with everything that was within him, that it was darkest nightmares wouldn’t become true. 

* * *

Cho said Tony shouldn’t get out of bed for three days, minimum, but it’s less than twenty-four hours when Pepper wheels him into Peter’s room. 

He’d never been good at following orders. 

May had just stepped out, getting coffee as Happy tried to console her. 

Tony had expected to be alone, is surprised to see the kid’s girlfriend Michelle - sitting in the corner. 

Their eyes meet, a silent acknowledgement of each other’s presence, but neither say a word.

Michelle turns her attention back to Peter, making Tony face the reality in front of him. 

There are more tubes than there is Peter, bandages and splints and medical tape seemingly wrapping nearly every part of him. The low hum of the ventilator is the only sound in the room, save for Tony’s hitched breathing. 

“Pep.” 

“I’m here, Tony.” She places a hand on his shoulder, then pushes him forward. 

Both of Peter’s hands are in casts, Tony looking for any sign of the kid skin that wasn’t bandaged or bruised in some way. The blood had been cleaned off his face, even if his hair was messy and wild. 

But the sound of the ventilator, the awful tube placed down his throat, makes Tony feel as if he’s the one in need of oxygen. 

Pepper’s grip on his shoulder is firm, keeping him there and present in this miserable moment. 

It’s silent for a moment, almost a minute - until Michelle speaks up.

“Cho’s not sure if he’ll wake up.” 

Tony turns, having forgotten she was there - already feeling himself lost to endless waves of grief. He doesn’t know what to say, his tongue suddenly feels foreign in his mouth.

Pepper speaks up instead. 

“She’s not sure, but it’s not impossible.” Her voice is quiet, warm. Encouraging, almost. Tony’s gaze has switched back to Peter as she continues. 

“Peter’s been through a lot, Michelle. He can make it through this.” 

It’s an encouragement she hadn’t given Tony, but he knows by now that Pepper didn’t have the heart to break Michelle’s. 

Michelle seems to see past it anyway. 

“He was thrown from the roof of a thirty-floor building. Knocked out before he even hit the ground.” Michelle’s tone is even, measured. 

Yet despite the brevity and coldness of her statement, Tony knows Michelle well enough to know she isn’t being unfeeling or pessimistic. 

She’s trying to make sense of the unfathomable. Trying to prepare herself, if it went the other way. 

Tony hoped it wouldn’t. 

Pepper is silent, Tony turning to see Michelle as she gets up from her place in the corner of the room, eyes scanning Peter as she walks up to his bedside. 

“I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t wake up.” 

The brutality of her words is only undercut by the softness in her voice, the whisper that cuts at Tony in his core. 

Neither Pepper or Tony answer, but he meets Michelle’s eyes - sees for the first time the tears threatening to fall. 

Another silent acknowledgement. A quiet understanding. 

Tony and Michelle were nothing alike. 

And yet they were singularly united in the knowledge that if Michelle’s fears came true, if Tony’s nightmares become reality, they’d be forever linked by the immeasurable grief that losing Peter would bring.

* * *

It takes almost two weeks for Peter to wake up. 

Two long, miserable, agonizing weeks. 

His room is a constant revolving door of people, the most frequent visitors being May, Tony and Michelle. 

Tony knows Happy keeps vigil while May sleeps, sees Steve and Rhodey slip in and out while he’s still in there. 

But for almost two weeks, there’s nothing - save for the infrequent but no less terrifying moments when Peter’s heart stops. 

Cho had mentioned to him at some point that they’d lost Peter on the table twice, that the recurring flatlines likely being some sort of residual effect from Peter’s healing powers overworking his heart. 

Tony doesn’t care, just holds his breath - barely allowing oxygen in until the steady and consistent rhythm of Peter’s heartbeat returns. 

And then thirteen days, four hours and twenty-three minutes after Peter first fell, he wakes up again. 

It’s slow, Tony being the only in the room - watching in real-time as his own heart stops, breath shaking as he sees Peter’s eyes flutter. 

The tube down his throat had been removed, Peter was breathing on his own, though Cho had ordered that oxygen still be given, to aid his healing. 

Tony watches - eyes transfixed on Peter’s face as his head starts to turn, a low moan coming out of his mouth. 

“Hey, hey kid. It’s me, you’re alright. Can you hear me?” 

And then the thing Tony had feared would never happen again, the dream he had barely allowed himself to hold to. Peter opens his eyes, blinks a few times. 

A soft and hazy look, Peter seems completely out of it but Tony doesn’t care. 

For the first time in thirteen days, four hours, and twenty-seven minutes - Peter’s brown eyes were open. 

Peter blinks a few more times, looking at Tony, his mouth turning into a soft smile. Tony smiles back, tears glistening in his eyes as he puts a hand to Peter’s face. 

“Hey, Pete. Welcome back.”


	2. Car Crash.

“Peter, if you don’t turn that song down, I’m going to vomit in your aunt’s car.” Peter smirks, keeping his eyes on Michelle as he turns the volume up, trying to drown out the rain pouring outside. 

“Eyes on the road, idiot.” She rolls her eyes as Peter laughs, putting his hands back on the wheel. 

“I know, I know. Ten and two right?”

“I think it’s nine and three now. Didn’t you just take driver’s ed?” Peter shrugs, smirking at Michelle before bringing his eyes back to the road. The rain is steadily pouring, Peter keeping his hands steady. Michelle turns the volume down. 

“Mr. Stark let me drive his Audi a couple of times, I think he’s a better teacher than some underpaid quack at the DMV.” 

“First, never say quack again. It’s weird coming out of your mouth.”

“Quack.” Michelle gives him a look, continuing. 

“Second, did Stark actually let you _drive_ an Audi or just like, sit in it and take pictures?” Peter puts a hand up of faux shock, mouth open. 

“Don’t be cute with me, Parker. And what’d I tell you, hands on the wheel. I’m trying to live to see eighteen.”

“Lotto tickets?”

“Clearly.” She smiles, grabbing some candy out of our purse. “And the R-rated documentaries that make Ned squeamish.” 

Peter smiles back, waving a hand out for her to give him one. “Ned’s really gonna be jealous I’m taking you out to the cabin without him.” 

“Yeah, well considering he’s been at this FOS thing longer than I have, I think he can deal with it.” 

“FOS?” Peter mumbles, stuffing a wad Swedish Fish in his mouth. 

“Friend of Spider-Man. I don’t know, some nickname he came up with for himself.” Michelle pops a candy into her mouth, leaning back into the seat. The rain is steady, a low hum in the background. 

Peter reaches into the candy once more, swallowing the candy in his mouth before saying, “Well technically I think you’d be a GFOS.” 

Michelle turns, confused as Peter smiles.

“ _Girlfriend_ of Spider-Man.” 

Michelle smirks, swatting his hand away from the candy. 

“Hey!” She puts a finger to his face. 

“What’d I tell you? Hands on the wheel, eyes on the road Parker.” 

Peter rolls his eyes, obliging as he glances to the road up ahead. 

He knew the way to Stark’s cabin like the back of his hand, he and May taking the trip up every other weekend. Tony had offered for Happy to drive them up from the city, but Peter had been insistent. 

What was the point of a license if you never used it? 

But the rain had started to come down heavily, Peter almost regretting not taking Tony up on his offer. He goes to grab his phone when Michelle sighs, grabbing it for him. 

“I shit you not Parker, if you don’t keep your hands---”

“I got it, MJ. I got it. Just… call Mr. Stark for me.” 

Michelle unlocks his phone, scrolling down to the contact list until she finds it. 

“Why is his name Tony Stank?” Peter laughs, shaking his head.

“Inside joke. I don’t know, Colonel Rhodes told me to do it, said it’d irritate the hell out of him.” Michelle taps his information to send a call out, putting it on speakerphone. 

It rings once, twice - before picking up.

“Hey kid, where you at?” 

“Hey Mr. Stark! MJ and I are like ten minutes out but the rain’s really coming down.” As if on cue, a loud roll of thunder booms through the sky.

“Yeah, it’s pouring over here too. Little miss isn’t too pleased.” 

“You told her it’s just Uncle Thor messing around right?” Tony laughs through the speaker.

“Yeah kid, she told me what you said. You gotta stop filling her head with nonsense. Thor being the best Avenger? Come on, Pete. Let an old man feel needed for once.” 

Peter shrugs, knowing Tony can’t see it. Michelle adjusts her grip on the phone to bring it closer to him. 

“What can I say, Mr. Stark? Thor is literally a god.” 

Tony laughs again, Peter smiling as he glances towards Michelle. 

There’s a flash of lightning, the rain is pouring down. 

The hair on the back of his neck sticks up. 

The lightning is bright, almost blinding across his face. Peter tenses, realizing a half-second too late that it’s not lightning in front of him. 

He hears Michelle’s gasp, his immediate thought to send a hand out to save her. The crack of thunder blasts through the sky once more, barely drowned out by the immediate and blaring sound of a car horn.

Before Peter can even think, he acts on instinct. 

He hears Michelle scream, hears Tony through the phone, the car horn still blaring in his ears. 

Peter - inexperienced, panicked, not thinking clearly - does the one thing you’re never supposed to do. 

He hits the brakes and tries to swerve out of the way. 

* * *

The glass cracks, the windows shattering around them as the car rolls, tumbling over and over. Michelle’s stopped screaming - Peter has half a second to consider that before the car slides.

It skids for a few seconds, Peter’s hands have crushed the wheel by this point, shaking at the broken pieces in front of him. They’re upside down, Michelle’s gasps the only sound Peter can hold on to.

“MJ, are you---”

“I’m okay. I’m… okay, Pete.” 

Peter almost feels himself relax, before there’s another crack of lightning.

He tenses. 

Skidding of tires, another panicked driver. He sees headlights, sends a hand out to Michelle. 

And braces for impact. 

* * *

Tony’s flying through the sky, begging FRIDAY to get him there faster. 

“Gun it, FRI.” The rain is pouring down, Tony begging the suit to get there as quickly as it could. 

Just a minute ago, he’d been on the phone with the kid, laughing. 

The next minute Tony heard screams. 

He’d leapt off the couch, causing Morgan to whimper. 

“Daddy?” 

“Pepper, it’s Pete.” She nodded, rushing to Morgan’s side as Tony ran out to their garage, activating the suit and flying off into the storm. 

FRIDAY had immediately brought up the coordinates, registering from the panic in Tony’s voice and the thundering beat of his heart that it related to Peter. 

“Come on Pete, where you at? Where you at?” Tony mutters to himself, eyes scanning. The kid couldn't have been far, ten minutes he’d said. 

“Got him boss.” 

Tony turns, sees the wreckage. He swallows down the wave of panic and flies down. 

He sees the group of people huddling around the mangled car, the one Tony immediately recognizes as May’s. His stomach drops, his throat suddenly dry. One guy turns, eyes widening.

“Iron Man?”

“FRIDAY? Call for medical.” The panic in his voice is unmistakable, Tony immediately leaning down as FRIDAY scans. 

There’s another car, some people crowded around it. But Tony’s focused only on the one. 

“I didn’t see them! I promise, I didn’t see. I tried to swerve but--” 

“Talk to me, FRI.” Tony ignores the man, bracing himself as he looks down into the car, holding his breath. 

He’s at the passenger side, sees Michelle dazed and clearly hurt, but alive. She blinks a few times, the blood from a gash on the side of her face bright red. 

“Michelle is suffering from a concussion, two cracked ribs and what appears to be a break in her right leg.” Tony glances to the driver’s side, panicking. 

Peter’s eyes are closed, blood pouring down his face, his body. He’s limp in the driver’s seat, a hand extended and twisted in a way that makes Tony’s stomach recoil. 

“Peter has fourteen rib fissures, both of his kneecaps have shattered, and there appears to be internal bleeding in the left lower quadrant of his body.”

“Is he…” 

“I detect a heartbeat, boss. However, Peter is in critical condition and requires immediate medical attention.” 

“Shit.” Tony whispers, bringing his face up, trying and failing to stop the panic. “Where the hell is medical?” The crowd around him stares back at him, mistaking his question to FRIDAY as a question to them.

“We--we called an ambulance. I don’t, I don’t think we’re supposed to move them.” A woman offers, looking as sick to her stomach as Tony feels. 

Tony’s breath hitches, turning back to the car. Michelle lazily blinks at him, her eyes fluttering.

“Hey, hey, hey Jones you with me? You’re going to be alright okay? You’re going to be alright.” Tony frantically glances to Peter, the panic swelling at Peter’s limp and quiet form. 

Peter had just been laughing on the phone with him, giving sarcastic comments and probably annoying the hell out of Michelle. 

But now Peter wasn’t moving, his face bruised and bloody. 

Tony brings his attention back to Michelle, grounding himself with trying to keep her awake. 

“Eyes up, Jones. You with me? You alright?” She doesn’t answer, seemingly drifting out of consciousness. 

“No, no. no come on Jones. Come on, I gotta keep one of you awake.” Tony’s throat is closing, the edges of his vision swimming in darkness as he panics. 

As Michelle’s eyes loll into the back of her head, Peter just as still and unmoving as he’d been since Tony arrives, he feels as if someone is pressing down on his chest - the pressure of it causing him to wheeze, trying and failing to choke down air. 

Tony hears the sirens in the background, the frantic yells of the crowd around him as they try to grab its attention- but all he can focus on is what’s in front of him, of who is in front of him.

Michelle - bleeding, injured, and knocked out. 

And Peter. 

Who still hasn’t moved, whose skin now looks ghostly pale. A shiver runs down Tony’s spine.

“FRIDAY? Talk to me.”

“Peter’s heart is in distress, boss. He needs immediate medical attention.” 

Tony braces himself, the panic overtaking him.

As the paramedics rush forward, Tony’s own medical team no doubt already on their way, he feels immobilized - useless.

All Tony had wanted was to have them over for a weekend, get to hang out with the kid and his scary girlfriend for a few days. 

But now here he was, the rain pouring down, two unconscious and bleeding kids in front of him.

Tony had saved the universe. And yet in this moment, he wondered if he’d been a minute too late to save them. 

* * *

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Peter groans, his body stiff and aching from the uncomfortable position he was in. He blinks an eye open, taking in his surroundings. 

The sunlight is streaming in, softly illuminating the room. Peter slowly sits up, working the crick in his neck as he blinks a few times. He glances over to the armchair and smiles. 

Michelle is there, snoring - completely out of it with a book in hand. A blanket’s been placed over her, barely covering the book she held loosely in her hands. 

Peter smiles, noticing for the first time the blanket that’s been placed on him. He goes to move off the couch when Tony walks in.

“Hey kid, you’re up.” 

“Morning, Mr. Stark.” Peter yawns, Tony nodding his head towards where Michelle was sleeping. 

“Jones still out of it huh?” Peter smiles, glancing over to her. 

“Yeah, I guess we fell asleep during the movie.” Peter looks back to Michelle, frowning. 

“Wait, where’s Morgan?” Tony smiles, motioning for Peter to join him in the kitchen.

“Put her to bed, Pete. You were passed out, Jones barely even flinched when Pepper picked Morgan up.” Tony shakes his head, grabbing a coffee cup. 

“You know, I think little miss likes her more than you.” 

“You think?” Peter scoffs, leaning on the breakfast counter. “Do you know Morgan calls me now? But not to talk to me, no. Only to see if she can talk to MJ” He smirks. 

“Not that I mind. I’m glad they get along.”

“I know you don’t kid.” Tony motions towards Michelle’s sleeping form before pouring some coffee into his mug. 

“She’s a good one, Pete. Don’t mess this up. If you hadn’t already been snoring like a lumberjack, I would’ve thought you two had some kind of shenanigans planned last night.” Tony puts two fingers up to his eyes, motioning with them as if he’s watching Peter. 

“Don’t think I don’t know what a teenager thinks of when they hear ‘cabin getaway’. I’m on to you, Parker.” Peter laughs, his ears reddening.

“Come on, Mr. Stark. We’ve been here, what, three times by now? We keep it PG-13 for you and Ms. Potts.” 

“And it better stay--- hold up. PG-13? As in it’s _not_ that elsewhere?” Peter just laughs, dismissing Tony’s questioning as he gets up and goes for the fridge. 

“I think that’s a personal question, Mr. Stark.”

“Personal, my ass. You got something to tell me, Pete?” Peter smirks as Tony looks at him up and down, before he shakes his head, rolling his eyes. 

“Alright we’re putting a pin in this for now, only--” Tony puts the coffee cup out, gesturing to Peter, “Because I got a surprise for you.” 

Peter perks up, following Tony as they walk out to the back door. 

Peter’s confused for a second as he sees the car, an Audi that looks strikingly similar to Tony’s.

“The surprise… is your car?”

“Nope. The surprise is that this is _your_ car.” Peter gapes, turning to Tony as he extends the keys out to Peter.

“Mr. Stark, I---”

“You’re welcome, kid. Enjoy.” Peter shakes his head in disbelief, a sharp laugh leaving him. He turns to the car, walking towards the driver’s side. 

“It’s got access to Stark satellites for radio, Wi-Fi, direct line to Karen, and the best part,” Tony comes up to the passenger side, tapping the hood. “Vibranium shielding encased all around it.” 

Peter’s smile falls, a rush of shame falling over him. 

It’d been six months since the accident, since the first time he’d tried to bring Michelle up to visit.

The recovery had been brutal, more so for himself than Michelle. 

Peter healed quickly, even if he had woke up disoriented in the Compound’s medical room a few days later. 

But it’d taken Michelle almost a month to recover from her injuries, another month before she started to feel like normal again. 

Physically, Peter was fine. But emotionally, Peter was still struggling. 

The accident still haunted him, the thought that his own carelessness almost caused him to lose her. She had warned him, Michelle kept pushing to him focus on the road. 

No one had died, he could at least be thankful for that. 

But Michelle almost had. And it would’ve been Peter’s fault. 

Tony immediately recognizes the shift in Peter’s demeanor, tapping the hood once more.

“Kid, it’s not your fault.” 

“If I had just been paying more attention---”

“It was an accident, Pete.” 

“She could’ve died, Mr. Stark!” Peter interjects, holding back the tears that threatened to form.

“So could’ve you, kid.” Tony takes a deep breath, Peter recognizing the shakiness of the exhale. 

“But you didn’t. Michelle didn’t.” Tony comes towards the front of the car, Peter meeting him.

“I can’t take this car, Mr. Stark. I can’t, I can’t risk her getting hurt again. I’m not, I can’t—” 

Tony immediately envelops Peter into a hug, Peter leaning into the embrace, gripping Tony tightly. Peter lets the beating of Tony’s heart calm him as he threads a hand through the back of Peter’s hair.

“You won’t, kid. You’re going to be okay. It was an accident, Pete. Besides, Shuri shipped this out special, just for you.” Peter laughs into Tony’s chest, tightening his grip.

“Remind me to tell MJ that Princess Shuri made it. She’ll freak.” 

They remain in a comfortable silence, Peter closing his eyes in Tony’s embrace. 

He’s still not sure if he can handle driving again, not anytime soon. But Tony’s presence calms him, the thought and care that clearly went into the gift warming Peter’s insides. 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” He nudges Peter, breaking out of the hug for Tony to look him in the eyes. 

“I just want to keep her safe, Mr. Stark.” 

“I think she can take care of herself.” Tony smiles, the warmth in his eyes evident. “But don’t worry, kid. You will.” He brings Peter in for another hug, tight and fierce. 

Tony doesn’t say it, but Peter understands the meaning all the same. 

_Don’t worry, kid. I got you._

_I’ll keep you safe too._


	3. Alcohol.

Peter hears the familiar whine of the pulsers behind him before they actually arrive, gazing listlessly out to the city street. He sways a little on the balcony’s edge, takes another swig of the bottle before wiping his mouth. 

The soft thud behind him tells Peter that Tony is behind him but Peter can’t bring himself to care.

“Pete? You doing alright, kid?” 

On some level in Peter’s drunk-addled mind, he can register the slight undertone of panic in Tony’s voice, trying and failing to be calm. It’s not working, even Peter can hear that ,but he ignores it. He sways a little more, takes another swig.

“Peter.” Tony’s voice is firm now, shaky but scared. Peter turns to face him, almost surprised that Tony’s actually there. 

The suit’s completely dematerialized, Tony looking like he half-stumbled out of bed. A part of Peter recognizes that since he lives out in the cabin now - some odd 200 miles away - he likely had. 

It doesn’t kick in for Peter why he’s there, his eyes just lazily looking back out to the city. He goes for another drink, only to find the bottle is empty. 

“That’s my last one.”

“I think that’s a safe bet, kid. Shit, how many of those have you had?” Peter shrugs, letting the bottle fall to his side. He can’t see it, but he can imagine the wince that Tony must have on his face, likely counting the excessive and damning evidence of Peter’s own misery. 

It had taken twenty-six bottles of beer before he’d started to feel anything close to a buzz, another ten before his vision started to blur. Peter’s not sure how he made it to the roof of this building anymore, the memory of it hazy and disconnected in his memory. All he knows is that he both does and doesn’t feel like shit anymore. 

“Peter, I need you to look at me.” Peter does, turning his head slightly, his body slightly wavering again. 

Now that he’s gone at least thirty seconds without shoving more alcohol down his throat, Peter can recognize that Tony not only looks like he dragged himself out of bed, but he looks slightly frantic - panicked in a way that Peter doesn’t think he’s seen before. 

“Pete, whatever it is. Let’s just… let’s just talk okay?” Peter frowns, swaying forwards as he tries to adjust. Tony extends a hand out, his voice sharp and much higher than Peter’s ever heard it.

“Kid, don’t--”

“Don’t what?” Peter turns to face him, the wind softly whipping at his shirt. He’s looking straight on to Tony now, his back to the city.

“Pete, why don’t, why don’t you come down from there? Alright? Let’s… let’s just talk over here?” Tony has a hand out, beckoning for Peter to follow. 

It takes Peter a few seconds for the penny to drop, for the realization to hit. He laughs, those there’s no humor in it.

“You think, you think I’m gonna jump?”

Peter can see the panic that flashes through Tony’s eyes, eyes widening before his head shakes. “No, no I don’t. I’m here, kid. Whatever it is---”

Peter rolls his eyes, stepping forward onto the roof. He can see the immediate relief that overwhelms Tony, his hand reaching to stable Peter who is still swaying.

“I’m drunk, not stupid.” 

Tony immediately brings him into a hug, the pressure of it almost suffocating Peter.

“It’s not stupid, Pete. Whatever it is, whatever you’re feeling, it’s not… it’s not stupid.” Peter’s arms awkwardly embrace Tony, giving him a slight pat on the back. He hadn’t expected Tony to come, had specifically left his suit at home to avoid something like this. Peter hears the sharp exhale Tony gives, bringing him out of the hug as his arms firmly grab Peter’s. 

Now that the threat of whatever Tony’s mind had raced to was over, it seemed that the relief had immediately changed into fury. 

“What the hell were you thinking, Peter? Drinking? Coming up to this roof? I don’t…” Peter blinks, Tony shaking him. 

“Answer me, dammit. What the fuck’s gotten into you?” 

Peter shrugs Tony’s arms off, swaying and stumbling as goes for his backpack. 

“It doesn’t matter, Mr. Stark. I’ll head home.”

“Like hell you will. You smell like a brewery.” Peter snorts, rolling his eyes. 

“It’s Friday night in New York. Everyone smells like I do.” He puts his arms out, gesturing towards the city. 

Tony is stone-faced, staring back at him with a look that Peter doesn’t recognize. He shrugs, grabbing his backpack. He stumbles again, Tony grabbing him. 

“Kid, come on. You can barely stand up.” Tony nudges his arm for Peter to look up at his face, Peter seeing the rage transformed into concern. 

“Talk to me, Pete.” 

Peter smirks. “That’s just it, Mr. Stark. Apparently, I’m shit at talking.” He shakes his head. “Shit at everything, I guess.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter sighs, letting his backpack fall. Tony watches for a beat before bringing the kid down to the roof’s floor, Peter following without prompting. He brings his knees up, resting his elbows on them as he sighs once again.

“She dumped me, Mr. Stark.” Tony’s silent, watching as Peter sniffles, his throat suddenly feeling dry despite the constant liquid he’d poured down it for the past hour and a half. 

“She said I wasn’t _talking_ to her, said I wasn’t listening or some shit.” Peter laughs again, feeling the tears starting to form. He sniffles, tries to force them back down. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I don’t talk? I don’t listen? I’m fucking Spider-Man, I never shut the hell up.” 

Tony doesn’t laugh, doesn’t seem to move. Peter looks up, seeing as Tony is just watching him. 

There’s a part of Peter that recognizes Tony is just waiting for him to continue, is giving him the space to talk out whatever it is he’s going through in a way that’s desperately needed. But his alcohol-drenched brain refutes that, misconstruing it in the worst way.

“And now _you’re_ not talking to me.”

“Just listening, kid.” 

Peter snorts again, the sound awkward and obnoxious to his own ears. He can feel the alcohol streaming through his bloodstream, can feel even then that even if his senses are dulled and the slight buzzing in his ears is probably due to the warmth of it working itself through his system, it’s as if the city has still dialed up to eleven.

Peter closes his eyes, breathing deeply for a few seconds before Tony speaks up again. 

“You want to talk about what happened?” Peter shakes his head, a bit too forcefully.

“No.” 

“Okay.” 

Peter glances back up, sees the neutral look on Tony’s face.

“That’s it?” Tony shrugs, crossing his legs as he brings his own arms to close around them. 

“We don’t have to talk, kid. We can just sit here.” He nods towards Peter. “Let the alcohol burn through your system for a bit.” 

Peter doesn’t respond, bringing his head back down as he thinks. 

It was stupid, getting drunk on a Friday night. Stupider still to do so on a rooftop without telling anyone around him what he was doing.

But Michelle had dumped him a week ago, the fight still reverberating around in his head anytime he closed his eyes. Nothing made any fucking sense anymore. What was a little alcohol binge after the world had fucking ended and your girlfriend broke up with you for something as stupid as a fight about college? 

Peter closes his eyes, even knowing with how drunk he was that he wasn’t being fair. Michelle was right, he hadn’t been listening to her. But then, it felt like no one had ever listened to him.

He still didn’t see the big deal about choosing Columbia, what the hell everyone’s problem was about him deciding to stick around in New York. 

Peter knew May was thrilled in a sense, that Peter wasn’t moving off some four hours away. But he still saw the look she gave him when he’d talk about finding an apartment closer to campus, the shared glances between her and Tony when he’d talk about sending off Ned to MIT. 

It made sense to him, staying in New York. He got to go to a good school, study something he was interested in, _and_ get to be Spider-Man. It was the best of both worlds. 

Peter still didn’t understand why Michelle didn’t seem to think so. 

He glances back up at Tony, the man looking out towards the city. 

Peter knew Tony wasn’t thrilled about him staying in the city either, for reasons that he had neither the patience nor the inclination to ask about. It didn’t make sense to him, everyone’s push for him to choose MIT. 

Yeah, he’d wanted it when he was younger. But that was then, before everything. Before the world ended. Before they came back. 

Now here they were, a world entirely different and yet frustratingly similar. It grounded Peter, the possibility of staying in New York - of being close to the city that he loved. 

Peter would be lying if the thought of missing out on college experiences with Ned didn’t burn something within him, the doubt and insecurity creeping in that maybe he really was being the dumbass everyone thought he was being. 

But a greater part of Peter was terrified, the idea of moving out of New York - out of the safety of the boroughs and places that he knows. 

He’d just wanted to stay close to something he knew, something he could control - could understand. He thought Michelle had been on the same page, they’d talked about their college plans for months. 

Peter knew it was silly, to think that he and Michelle would have actually made the distance. The probability of a high school relationship actually making the jump into college was just a fight against the inevitable.

But there had been a part of Peter that felt - deeply, truly, indescribably believed even - that he and Michelle were different. That they actually _could_ make it work. He knew that she wasn’t just being frustrated or petty, the idea of Peter being four hours away compared to four minutes. 

On some level - even drunk out of his mind - Peter thinks that maybe Michelle wasn’t completely wrong to break up with him, stopping themselves from saying anything further to each other that would’ve just hurt each other deeply. 

The car ride back home from upstate had been excruciating, hot and stuffy temperature of the car doing nothing for the icy tension felt between them.

Peter knows she hadn’t taken any joy in bringing it up, seemed just as broken and miserable about the possibility of a breakup as he had. 

But now, a week removed with Peter feeling drunk and more miserable than he’s felt since he had faded away into nothing, he almost wishes their fight had been worse. That they’d really had it out with each other. 

Maybe if it awful, he could pretend he didn’t still love her. Maybe if she said something terrible to him, he could pretend that she didn’t love him. 

Peter could even recognize that maybe it really was just how Michelle had put it - a break, a pause while they figure out how to talk to each other better. The idea of it blossomed hope within him but he didn’t dare give it time to grow.

He and Michelle may really be only taking a break. 

It didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Peter sighs, sniffling as he wipes his nose again. 

“You ever fuck up so bad, you don’t even know how to fix it?” Tony snaps to attention, gazing right into Peter’s face.

“You forget who you’re talking to, kid. I literally invented the fuck-up alright? Have a patent out and everything?” Peter lets out a small laugh, genuine this time as Tony smiles. 

Peter feels the tears still threatening to break, doesn’t even bother trying to stop them as they begin to fall. 

“I really messed up, Mr. Stark.” 

Tony puts a hand out to his shoulder, the weight of it comforting to Peter. 

“You’ll figure it out, Pete. You always do.” 

Peter shrugs, shaking his head. “I don’t know… I think I really hurt her.” Peter’s eyes are downcast, biting his lip as he thinks. The alcohol is clearing out of his system quicker than he anticipated, but then Peter hasn’t really drank before. He can already feel a small numbing and pressing pain in the back of his head. 

It’s the kind of clarity that you only get at the empty end of a bottle, the sheer dumb luck of having all your inhibitions down. 

Michelle was right. He hadn’t been talking to her. If he had, if he’d just explained what he was feeling - she would’ve understood. Michelle was unlike anyone he’d ever met, someone who seemed to take everything that he did in stride. 

She really seemed to love him. And Peter was sure he loved her back. 

“What if she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore? What if… what if I really messed this up?” Peter feels the sob in the back of his throat. 

The thought of this break becoming something permanent aches at Peter, the idea not of Michelle moving away - but of moving on. 

“I.. I love her, Mr. Stark.” Peter brings his eyes back up to Tony, the tears steadily streaming down his face.

“I know that probably sounds stupid, like I’m some dumb seventeen year-old kid.” 

“First off,” Tony interjects, “You’re not dumb, Pete. You swing around in a spandex suit as a hobby and can lift a bus over your head, kid. You’re not a normal seventeen-year old by a long shot.” Peter laughs, sniffling as Tony continues. 

“Second…” Tony trails off, seemingly searching for the words to say. “You… you’ve been through hell, kid. So has Michelle.” Tony grips Peter’s shoulder tighter, the act of it focusing Peter on Tony even more. 

“I can’t say I know what’s going on between you two but I could give it a guess.” Tony twitches his lips, before taking a deep breath. “But that’s a conversation for another day. Right now, the important thing for you to know is this.” Tony leans in a little further now, getting right into Peter’s face. 

“Whatever happens between the two of you, whatever you two decide, you’re going to make it out of this okay? If you love her and you think she loves you too, then…” Tony sighs, “Well kid, I don’t know. Pepper and I didn’t have the easiest path to where we are now.” 

Peter’s silent as Tony continues.

“And I’m not saying that’s where it has to go. I can’t answer this for you, Pete.” Peter looks up, sees the small but no less comforting smile on Tony’s face. 

“But I do know this. Whatever happens, whatever you decide, you’re going to make it through it alright? You’re not alone, Pete. Not now, not ever.” 

Peter nods, leaning forward until he almost falls into Tony’s arm. Tony immediately embraces him, holding him up as Peter burrows his head into his chest. 

He’s sure Michelle loves him, can only reason in his clouded brain that she’d broken up with him _because_ she did. It’s been a promise to each other, to never give up.

Peter had given up, in that argument on that lonely highway. It was too late to go back and change it, but maybe, maybe he could still fix it. 

They sit there for a minute, Peter feeling the effects of the alcohol starting to fade. He suddenly feels a wave of nausea, the impact of it sudden and surprising. Tony seems to sense the change in Peter, though how he doesn’t know. 

“You alright there?”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Tony just laughs, smoothing some of the hair on the top of Peter’s head. 

“You drank half the liquor store it seemed. Who the hell even sold you all of this?” Peter shrugs, Tony bringing him out of the embrace. 

“How did you find me? I didn’t bring my suit.” Tony just gives him a look, before rolling his eyes. 

“You got your secrets and I’ll keep mine. Come on, Pete, you good to stand?” Peter nods, regretting the action almost immediately. In a manner of minutes, it seems as if he’s gone straight from drunk to hungover, the dulling effects of the alcohol giving way to sheer pain and nausea. 

He lets Tony help him up, still wobbling slightly as he looks around. 

“How are we getting---”

“I called a car, kid. You think this is my first late night rodeo?” Peter raises an eyebrow, the act of it further setting off the pressure headache forming behind his eyes. 

“You’re not mad?” 

“Oh I’m pissed as hell kid, but an angry lecture when you’re drunk is forgettable.” Tony gives him a look, the impact of it hitting at Peter. 

“A pissed off lecture when you’re hungover is one you’ll never forget.” Peter sighs, closing his eyes. 

“Shit.”

“Come on kid, I’ll yell at you when you’re sober.” Tony puts his hand around Peter’s shoulders, leading him towards the roof doors. 

Even as Peter stumbles along, the alcohol fading from his system - Tony’s words about Michelle are still ringing in his ears. Maybe there was something to salvage between them. Maybe things weren’t as bad as they had seemed. Peter wouldn’t be able to figure that out tonight.

But as he follows Tony along, already regretting the night’s events and the lecture he was inevitably going to follow - Peter’s convinced that Tony was right. 

He wasn’t alone. 


	4. Birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild panic attack in this. Be aware my dudes. 
> 
> Also, happy birthday to my favorite sticky boi! An odd way to celebrate but you know, feelings.

The cry wakes Tony up before FRIDAY does, instant in the way it always was. 

“Boss.” 

“I hear her, Fri.” Tony groans, rolling over in bed to see Pepper - trying to pretend as if she was asleep. Tony smiles, nudging her with his elbow.

“Your daughter’s awake.” 

Tony laughs. “Before sunrise, she’s _your_ daughter.” 

Pepper opens her eyes, smirking. “Are you quoting _The Lion King_?” 

Tony shrugs, leaning over to kiss her. “What can I say, the kid’s got me watching cartoons.” He turns away, rolling out of bed as he shuts their bedroom door. 

Pepper was exhausted, it didn’t bother Tony that she was trying to get more sleep. Though he made every effort to be as intentional and as active as he could, Pepper was up more times than not during the night - feeding Morgan, comforting her.

Tony didn’t sleep much, so when he finally did - Pepper seemed to allow him the chance to rest. 

Tony makes his way down the hall, pushing open the bedroom door to see Morgan - standing up in her crib, wailing. 

“What’s the matter, little miss? No one’s paid attention to you in the past, what- three hours?” Morgan lets out another pitiful cry, Tony smiling as he walks toward her crib - leaning down to grab her. 

Ten months old and she already seemed aware of the power she had over Tony, her cries immediately stopping as soon as she’s in his arms. 

“Oh, I see how it is.” Tony bounces her, Morgan’s cheeks still wet with tears. He wipes them away with the sleeve of shirt, Morgan wriggling away from it. 

“Come on, kiddo. Let’s get some food in you.” 

* * *

Tony sits on the couch, watching as Morgan babbled to herself, putting a block in her mouth as some brightly colored and obnoxious cartoon played in the background. Pepper was in the shower by now, Tony leaning back as he watched his daughter play.

It was a quiet life, domestic in a way that Tony felt he would never be worthy of. Their cabin had been a place of refuge, a separation from the havoc the rest of the world was facing. 

Pepper was still involved, working to leverage SI’s resources - even in the midst of chaos - to try and help ease the wounds. Tony didn’t - if only because he was committed to being there for Morgan. 

It was an unspoken agreement between the two of them, an understanding. 

Tony fully supported what Pepper was doing, in another life - he’d be right there with her. 

But a year and a half after the end - after he’d _lost_ \- was still too soon for him to even think about stepping out there, even if he wondered if he ever really would again. 

His phone chimes, Tony’s eyebrows furrowing at the sound. Rhodey was off on some mission overseas, wasn’t supposed to be calling in till tonight. Happy was in the city and the only other people in the world he cared to hear from were in the shower and drooling in front of him. 

He gets his phone out of his pocket, eyes widening as his stomach drops. 

REMINDER - Lottery, cigarettes, voting, tattoo (???)

Tony feels an immediate pressure on his chest, his breath hitching as he glances towards Morgan, completely oblivious to the panic crawling up and down Tony’s spine. 

It’s sudden, crushing, the way his vision starts blur, his throat closing. Tony grips the couch cushions underneath him, tries and fails to control his gasps. 

_How the hell did I forget?_

Pepper walks in, the smile on her face immediately falling as she sees Tony - arms rigid and gripping the couch, his legs firmly planted on the floor. Morgan looks up to her, starts to babble. 

“Tony.”

Tony gasps, looking to her. Pepper’s eyes are firm, her jaw tightening as she slowly walks towards him, picking up Morgan. Morgan immediately lurches forward, trying to get back to the floor but Pepper’s own grip on her is firm. 

“Tony.” 

He sees her but he doesn’t, he can’t. Tony’s mind, his heart, his breathing - all racing. 

_How could I forget?_

* * *

Tony’s pacing around the compound’s lab, watching Peter as he does his homework. His pencil is lightly tapping on his paper, the sound of it aggravating Tony. 

“Kid, can you stop for a minute?” Peter looks up innocently, watching as Tony continues to pace. 

“Stop… doing my homework?”

“Stop with the--” Tony motions Peter’s pencil tapping, sighing, “Can’t you focus some other way?”

Peter made a face, looking at Tony up and down.

“You alright, Mr. Stark?”

Tony wasn’t, running his hand over his face as he continued to pace. He and Pepper’s anniversary - at least the one they had officially decided for themselves, considering the shit they’d been through - was coming up and he was at a loss for what to get her. 

It was ridiculous, a billionaire without an idea of what to get the love of his life. Buy an island? More diamonds? Well-needed vacation time?

Tony thought a lot about proposing, though the idea that some paper would do anything more to solidly their commitment to each other was laughable. As it was, Tony couldn’t help but wonder if Pepper would laugh at him if he did so.

“Mr. Stark?”

Peter’s questioning brings him out of it, shaking his head as he walks towards where Peter’s sitting. 

“Nothing, kid. Don’t worry about it. Grown up stuff.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “I’m sixteen, not six. I can handle a lot more than you think.”

“Oh I know full well what you can handle, Pete. I saw the footage of your little tango of a knife fight last night.” Peter shrugs, though Tony watches as he averts his eyes away from him.

“It’s nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Says you, the sixteen year old. Come on, kid work with me. I’m trying _not_ to have your scary aunt murder me. Can you at least pretend like you’ll be careful? Try not give me a heart attack, at least until you’re eighteen.”

Peter rolled his eyes again, glancing back down to his homework.

“What does turning eighteen even matter anyway? One minute you’re a kid and then suddenly - poof, you’re magically an adult?”

“That’s how the law works, kid. I can’t help you there.”

“At least I’ll finally be able to register to vote.” Peter offers, putting his chin in his hands. Tony smirks.

“Of course your first thoughts go to something ridiculously wholesome. Aren’t you from Queens? What about getting cigarettes or a tattoo or something?” Peter balks, laughing. 

“Hold up, you _want_ me to start smoking?”

“I didn’t say that, I said how the hell does your mind not go to what any normal teenager would want?”

Peter smirks, a grin that lights up his face. “Well clearly, I’m just a better person than you are, Mr. Stark.”

Tony can tell Peter’s only joking but Tony just smiles, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t have to convince me of that, Pete. You always have been.”

* * *

Tony hears Pepper faintly in the background, a ringing in his ears as the memory fades away. 

He’s put the reminder in his phone later when the kid left, a joke to himself that he’d looked forward to harassing him about it two years later. FRIDAY must have carried them over, nothing in her coding to indicate that this would be something that would send him hurtling off the edge.

Two years. Over two years since that day at the compound, one of countless that all blurred together endlessly - painful and gut-wrenching. 

He can feel the pressure of Pepper’s hand on his arm, his mind trying and failing to bring him back out of the panic overtaking him. 

_“I don’t feel so good.”_

Tony shoots up off the couch, startling both Pepper and Morgan as the next memory threatens to overtake him, his hands shaking as he tries to regain control.

Tony closes his eyes, the ringing growing louder and louder - drowning out anything else.

Dust. Agony. The deep and relentless emptiness he’s felt as Peter faded away into nothing. 

Tony puts a hand out to the wall, bracing himself as he struggled to bring oxygen back into his lungs. 

Pepper left the room, Tony can’t bring himself to think of why. Because then he glances up, grasping for anything to ground him - bring back to the present. 

What he sees instead is a snapshot of Peter, eyes bright and smile wide. It’d been an intentional choice to put pictures of him up when they’d moved in, a way for Tony to try - slowly but surely - to incorporate him into Morgan’s life. 

But seeing the picture now - Tony’s small semblance of stability fading away each second - just sends him careening over into the dark pit and overwhelming grief.

* * *

It’s piercing, agonizing, and anguish that Tony both wishes he could get rid of and yet selfishly clings to. He never forgot Peter, never let himself forget how much he failed him. But for a brief moment, he’d allowed himself some peace - wholly consumed with Morgan that the reminder he’d set for Peter’s eighteenth birthday had completely slipped his mind.

He sinks to the floor, his breath shaky and irregular.

_I’m sorry, Pete._

_I’m so sorry._

* * *

The rest of the day passes by in a blur, Tony vaguely aware of Pepper’s presence by his side.

She spoke to him, soothingly though Tony couldn’t catch the words. He’s on the floor one minute and in their bed the next, Pepper having covered him in a blanket and holding him from behind.

A part of his mind registers that there’s Morgan, that she needed to be cared for. But Pepper seemed to be focused solely on him, his own mind trying to fill the gaps of where she could be.

It aches at Tony, the guilt of forgetting Peter’s birthday, the guilt of not caring for Morgan. Torn and twisted, he lets the grief wash over him - staring blankly at the wall until his vision blurs.

He’d found a small slice of happiness in the midst of chaos, an island of hope among all the devastation and pain. 

Yet feeling Pepper’s soft breathing behind him, her hand across his waist as she brings him close, Tony lets himself feel - for the first time in months - the magnitude of what he had lost. 

He’d lost the kid.

He’d failed him.

And what was worse, he hadn’t even remembered that it would be his birthday. 

Tony’s chokes out a sob, closed his eyes, and cried. 

* * *

He wakes hours later, Pepper still comfortably his side. She’s sleeping, Tony listening to her steady and measured breathing. He glances up back to the wall, bringing himself back to the present.

The darkness, the grief is still at the forefront, threatening to overtake him again but he takes a deep, shaking breath, trying to will himself not to tumble over again. 

He slowly but carefully extracts himself from Pepper’s embrace, watching as she just leans into the comforter around her. He’ll have to talk with her later, thank her for this - even if Tony knew there was nothing to thank her for.

They were in this together - grief, joy, agony and love - no matter what. 

Tony goes towards their bedroom door anyway, slowly walking out as he glances down the hall.

He can hear someone in the kitchen, his mind now connecting the dots that Pepper had no doubt called someone, probably Happy, to come be around for Morgan while she tended to Tony.

It was another unspoken agreement, one Tony wasn’t a part of and yet was fully aware. An agreement between his closest friends, his family - to be there for him no matter the cost.

Tony felt as if he didn’t deserve a lot of what was given to him, but he was at least thankful for this. 

He’ll meet up with whoever’s in the kitchen for a minute, quietly opening the door to Morgan’s room.

Tony sees her in her crib, sleeping, sprawled out in a way that makes Tony smile. Ten months old, and she already acted a little too much like him. He walks over to her, looking down as he tries to ignore the sob building in the back of his throat.

Losing Peter had been the greatest failure of his life, the anguish of him fading away into nothing something that still pierced his soul.

Yet he’d found - inexplicably and undeservingly - a second chance, with Morgan.

She could never replace Peter, she never would. But had it not been for him - had it not been for Tony losing him - Tony wonders if he would have ever allowed himself the chance to try again.

Being a father was the greatest joy of his life, second only to marrying Pepper.

But as he watched his daughter sleep, his eyes blurring with tears, Tony feels the profound sense of loss for the kid he had loved as a son - the boy he’d never get to see again.

Tony brushes some of Morgan’s hair out of her face, hand trembling. He brings a kiss to her forehead, watching with both joy and sorrow as she slightly moved from the touch. 

“Happy birthday, Pete.” Tony softly whispered, smiling down at Morgan.

He had lost Peter, would never get to see him grow up.

But Tony promised himself that he’d never allow another one of his birthdays to pass without remembering ever again.


	5. Fluff.

“Hey, it’s Peter! I didn’t answer my phone because I never do. Text me and I’ll call back!” 

Tony sighs, putting the phone down as he ended the call.

This was the fourth time the kid hadn’t answered his phone, Tony starting to get aggravated. He could tell the kid was fine, he hadn’t received any red alerts or signs of an emergency from FRIDAY. From what he could tell, Peter wasn’t even in the suit.

But it was a Tuesday, their first actual planned day in the lab in weeks. A day Tony had been looking forward to since Peter had been in the habit of cancelling at the last minute - until finally Tony had locked him down for today. 

It shouldn’t bother him, how seemingly absentminded and forgetful the kid has gotten about spending time with him. Pepper and Morgan were a few floors down, Rhodey was in the city, a whole host of ex-Avengers and people he could spent time with.

But Tony had missed _Peter_ , wanted to spend more than five damn minutes with him at a time.

And yet all Peter seemed to want to do was spend time with his new girlfriend Michelle.

Tony sighs, tapping out a text to the kid in the hopes that it would remind him about their plans. 

He watches the message send, watches in vain for the little text bubbles to show up, a hint that the kid had read it.

Tony stares for almost three minutes before giving up, sighing as he looks around the lab.

“Locate the kid, Fri.”

FRIDAY’s silent for a moment before saying, “Are you sure that’s a good idea, boss?”

Tony pauses, sighing again. “I didn’t ask for your input, I asked you to do it.”

FRIDAY complies though Tony can’t help but feel a hint of judgement as she did so, no matter how impossible it seemed. 

He sees that Peter is in his room, or at least his cell phone is, indicating to Tony that Peter not only forgot about their plans but had likely not even seen his calls or text messages.

Tony taps his fingers against his leg, debating something within himself before he decides.

“Let’s go for a spin, Fri.”

* * *

Tony is in the suit before he can think better of it, FRIDAY’s gentle admonishment giving way to silence.

He knows he’s being ridiculous, that the kid should have the freedom to choose who he wants to hang out with and when. 

But Peter wasn’t even out somewhere, just in his room - completely oblivious to how hurt Tony was feeling.

On some level, a small voice whispers that Tony should reconsider showing up, to let the kid be. But the slight undercurrent of jealousy that had been stirring for weeks gave way to something almost like anger, the idea that the kid would be blowing him off. 

Tony had nearly ripped open the universe to bring the kid back, lost an arm and moved back to the city, and yet here Peter was - canceling plans and rearranging his schedule so he could spend more time with a girl after a one week trip to Europe.

Though he really didn’t have a say in the matter, Tony thinks to himself as he lands that he should never have allowed him to go in the first place.

Peter was too young to be infatuated with someone as much as he was, going off to college in less than a year. As he lands on their roof, walking down the familiar stair entrance, Tony thinks to himself that the kid had his whole life to date - but only a few months left with him to hang out. 

He knocks then lets himself in using the key he has, knowing May was at work and would certainly disapprove of Peter not being where he said he would be. 

Slightly blinded by a jealousy that’s beneath him, Tony doesn’t seem to consider why Peter wouldn’t answer his phone or would have forgotten their plans. 

He doesn’t consider the second backpack on the couch, doesn’t really see the second jacket because all Tony can think of is that Peter had uncharacteristically not even responded to his text with an apology, hadn’t even responded at all.

Tony walks up to the bedroom door, and before he can stop himself, it hits him a half-second too late that there would only one reason why a seventeen-year old boy with a girlfriend wouldn’t answer his phone.

Tony opens the door, eyes widening before he hears a frantic scream.

“What the hell?”

“Mr. Stark!?”

Tony shuts the door immediately, closing his eyes, willing himself to be rid of the image in his head. 

He thanks every deity he can think of he didn’t really see much beyond Peter Parker’s half-naked backside but the image of that is enough to send Tony reeling, flushed with an embarrassment that’s completely foreign to him.

Tony’s walked into - and has been walked in on - more potentially embarrassing encounters than he can even name. Yet the rush of panic in his insides, the embarrassment that crawls down his spine as he makes his way into the living room leaves him feeling mortified.

Of course the kid hadn’t answered his phone.

 _Of course_ he would have forgotten his plans with Tony.

He’d been too _busy_ to do so.

And while Tony is the last person on earth to judge the kid for it, all he can think of now is how he should’ve listened to FRIDAY’s warnings to begin with.

* * *

The kid catches him on the roof before he flies off, Tony too scrambled to think straight.

“Mr. Stark, hold on.” Tony watches as Peter tries to straighten his shirt, noticing it’s on backwards. He can’t help but laugh, the realization of what he’d walked in on giving way from shock to amusement. 

“Don’t let me interrupt your plans, Pete. A little afternoon delight is a healthy thing for any relationship.” 

Peter turns beet red, a hand to his face. “Oh God.”

“See, you already know your lines.” 

Peter’s eyes bulge out, mouth open. “Mr. Stark!”

Tony laughs, a full-throated and deep belly laugh that even makes Peter grin.

“I’m just messing with ya, kid. Don’t mind me, I’ll see you another time.”

It’s as if the realization of why Tony would be there hits Peter, his eyes widening for the third time in less than five minutes. 

“Oh Mr. Stark, I’m so sorry, I forgot--”

Tony waves him off, still grinning from ear to ear. “Don’t worry about it, kid. We’ll meet up another time.”

“But I’m--”

“It’s okay, Pete. Really.” Tony smiles at him, watching as Peter gives a sheepish grin. 

There’s a beat of silence, before Tony smirks. 

“You’re using protection right?”

“Mr. Stark.” 

“I’m serious, Pete. I don’t want any other little spider-lings running around. Got enough on my plate watching over you.”

Peter rolls his eyes, exasperated as he almost pushes Tony towards the edge of the roof. 

“You can leave now.”

“I don’t know, maybe I _will_ stick around. See what else needs to be--”

“Mr. Stark, please.” The pleading in Peter’s eyes is enough to set Tony off further, bringing the kid into a hug. 

He hadn’t hugged Peter much before the end of everything, their first real hug being the moment Peter faded off into oblivion. But ever since the undoing, since Tony had a new lease on life - and after going five years without him - Tony promised himself he’d never let the opportunity arise without taking advantage of it again. 

“See you around, kid. Get back to your girlfriend, we’ll talk later.” 

“Mr. Stark--” Peter starts to say but Tony’s firm. 

“I get it, kid. I was young once.” Tony lets himself out of the embrace, the suit materializing over him. 

“I guess there wasn’t much to do back in the dark ages.” Peter smirks, Tony just shaking his head. 

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” Tony laughs as he flies off, Peter waving him off. 

As Tony flies back to the Tower, already looking forward to relaying the situation to Pepper, Rhodey and nearly anyone who would listen - he’s struck with a weird sense of pride. 

Peter was growing up, in more ways than one. 

And even if Tony didn’t get the chance to hang out with him like he planned today, Tony’s glad that after five long years, he can be thankful that Peter has the chance to even grow up at all.

He flies to the Tower, a smile on his face.

They had years and years to still spend time together. 

And after today, Tony had already decided that he’d never let Peter ever hear the end of this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to hailingstars for this prompt, this was fun to write. Come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://seek-rest.tumblr.com)!


	6. Drowning.

“Kid, if you another backflip, you’re going to give me a heart attack.” 

Tony shakes his head, watching as Peter does one anyway, the splash of the water echoing in the quiet. Peter’s mop of hair dives up to the surface a few seconds later, Tony grinning. 

“This is  _ awesome _ , Mr. Stark. Why didn’t you invite me out here sooner?” 

“I invite you here all the time, Pete. Not my fault you’re a college guy now, too busy to hang with your old mentor.” 

Peter just laughs, swimming towards the water’s edge. 

It was a three day weekend, the first Peter had in the semester. Tony shouldn’t be so sarcastic to the kid, Peter went to school in the city - it really wasn’t that much of a distance. 

But Tony knew, in the way all parents did, that going to college was a rite of passage - a chance to test out your independence and your boundaries. 

He already dreaded the day when Morgan would leave for college, talking to Pepper about his plans to open up a university or maybe go into teaching when the time came. Pepper would just smile, laugh and roll her eyes. 

“You’ll get your practice with Pete, you have plenty of time. You’ll be fine Tony.”

As Peter got up from the water, hair dripping with water as he grinned back at Tony, all that Tony could think of is that the practice - the time he had - wasn’t nearly enough.

He’d been afforded a second chance with his family - with Peter, the years stolen from them only a painful memory, a nightmare that he didn’t have to dwell on anymore. He flexes his arm, the twitch and whine of the mechanics still slightly foreign to his eyes. 

Tony didn’t regret taking on that gauntlet, even when the possibility of reaching the end of his life was suddenly within his grasp. But he was immensely thankful that the universe had allowed him the chance to still keep living, to live the life he hadn’t ever thought he’d be able to. 

If that life included Peter being distant - in the way all college freshmen were - then Tony could at least live with that. 

“Come on, Mr. Stark. Jump in?” 

Tony shakes his head, taking the hot dogs out of the tupperware he’d packed. “If you want to eat these anytime soon, I gotta get the grill going. Why don’t you just swim some laps, test your spider powers in the water or something?”   


Peter smirked, then rolled his eyes. 

“When’d you become so boring, Mr. Stark?” 

As Peter walks back towards the cliff’s edge, Tony shakes his head, muttering to himself. 

“You snap your fingers, bring back billions into into existence, age seemingly thirty years in five and come back to me with your shit, kid.”

“I heard that.”

“Wasn’t trying to hide it, Pete!” Tony yells, faintly hearing the kid’s laugh as he climbs up to the cliff’s edge. 

It was a hidden alcove on their property, a brook that fed into the lake that their cabin overlooked. Tony and Pepper had come across it by accident, in those first five years, but had committed to wait to bring Morgan out there until she learned to swim. 

When the world was made whole again and Peter was back, Tony figured that the kid could at least enjoy it in the meantime. 

Tony starts up the grill, laying out the condiments he knew Peter liked. He finds the mayo in the cooler, nose wrinkling until he remembers some stupid shit with Barton, laughing at how the man had managed to prank him in his own home when he was hundreds of miles away.

He hears the splash from Peter’s latest jump, busying himself with laying out the buns. Tony had almost forgotten how much the kid ate, Pepper stockpiling as much as she could in the few times Peter had come to visit before mschool began. 

Morgan got a kick out of it, how much Peter ate - to the point where Tony had to intervene and convince her that Peter was  _ not _ a human garbage disposal. 

Peter, the little shit, had only done the exact opposite - encouraging Morgan in feeding him nearly anything off her plate that she didn’t like. Except brussel sprouts, which the kid had an unexplainable distaste for considering it was one of the things Tony was damned good at making. 

He’d never been much for cooking, before the end of everything, and cooking now with a mechanical arm had been something of a learning curve - but Tony still enjoyed it.

There was something quiet in cooking, calming and methodical. Pepper argued that baking was more soothing but Tony liked to believe it was cooking that was really the better way to zone out. 

Mixing the ingredients together, adding in certain spices, taste testing until it was  _ just right _ \- it was a way for Tony to express himself creatively, especially in a time when all that energy that he’d used to spend in the lab, on suits, with a kid - couldn’t be given. 

Tony counted out the hot dog buns, making sure he had enough for the kid before adding in a couple more to be safe. He slathered them with butter, putting the hot dogs out on the grill. 

It was something Tony wanted to teach Peter, knowing how abysmal his own aunt’s cooking skills were. May was a force of nature, but cooking was certainly not something he’d learn from her. 

Tony smiles to himself at the idea of the kid’s girlfriend teaching him to cook, only since it seemed Michelle was clearly gifted in the kitchen yet refused to allow Peter to talk about it.

“She says it’s stereotypical, and that if I want to learn how to cook, I should do it on my own time.” Peter had said to him once, over the phone after Tony had articulated his plans to Peter. 

Tony just laughed, at the exasperation in Peter’s voice but more for how bad the kid seemed to be - even slightly annoyed - completely enamored with her. Tony had only met Michelle once - enough for him to know that she was just as formidable as Peter had claimed her to be - but he liked her, especially for how she seemed to challenge Peter in ways that Tony could only hope to. 

He frowns looking down at the buns, something pressing in the back of his mind. 

Tony had almost considered asking Peter if his girlfriend wanted to come out with him during the weekend, then selfishly decided against it - so that he could have the kid all to himself. She went to another school in the city, Tony gleaning from glimpses of conversations with Peter and from May that they seemed to see each other often enough.

Peter could afford to live three days without his girlfriend. 

_ More salt? Maybe pepper? _ Tony looks back to the hot dogs, an itch in the back of his neck that causes a twitch to form in his arm. He’s forgetting something, but he can’t quite figure out what it was. 

He got pickles. Lettuce. Onions. Mustard. Ketchup. He goes through the ingredients once more, double-checking for the plates and the napkins even as something starts to gnaw at him in the pit of his stomach. 

Peter had argued that he could just do without plates, Tony looking at him in disgust when said so. He hadn’t always been such of a slob, but Tony figured college had changed him - or maybe Tony had different standards, domesticated living had an effect on him in more ways than one. 

He’d have to talk to Peter about that, especially if he and the girlfriend stayed together for any length of time. A messy bachelor is a choice but a messy boyfriend is an annoyance. Peter would have to learn---

It hits Tony suddenly, the air knocked out of his lungs. He turns towards the brook in horror, the realization making his stomach drop as he gasped. 

Peter had jumped. He’d heard the splash. Distant, Tony can’t remember how long ago it was.

But Peter should’ve been out of the water by now, should have already been beside him, chattering and bothering him about how hungry he was. 

Tony feels like he can’t breathe, frozen as his eyes dance around the brook.

Peter had jumped.

He hadn’t come back up.

_ Fuck. _

Tony’s running towards the lake, food forgotten. He dives into the brook without a second glance, opening his eyes under the murky water. He’s swimming, as fast his arms and legs can take him, until he sees him. 

Peter’s arms and legs are listless, floating in the water. Tony’s stomach drops at the blood in the water, flowing from and around his head. Peter looks almost as if he’s asleep, eyes closed as he drifts. 

_ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. _

Tony swims faster than he ever has, tucking his arm under the kid’s arms and bringing them back to the surface. He’s never been more thankful that he snapped his fingers, that his life almost ended on that miserable battlefield, if only for the power that his mechanical arm gave him, rushing them to the surface.

Tony gasps as they break the surface, watching in panic as Peter’s head just rolls backwards, the kid not breathing at all.

“Come on, kid, come on.” Tony paddles to the edge of the brook as fast as he can, the swelling sense of dread in his stomach churning around until he feels as if he’s going to throw up. 

He lurches himself out of the water, bringing Peter backwards as Tony scrambles to bring him completely out.

“Pete, come on, kid.” Tony starts chest compressions, inwardly kicking himself for not paying better attention. 

Peter was eighteen, more than capable of taking care of himself, yet all Tony can think of in his blind panic is how he’d completely missed Peter not coming back up for air. 

He had to have hit his head, the blood in the water and seeping now on the ground underneath him making Tony’s stomach churn. 

Peter had something he called a spider-sense, precognitive in that it warned him of danger. Tony keeps the compressions going, wondering why the hell those senses hadn’t worked for this. 

“Peter, Peter I need you to breathe dammit.” He leans down to give two rescue breaths, the panic continuing to flow though him as Peter’s lips start to tinge blue, Tony resuming chest compressions. 

How long had the kid been down there? How much time had Tony wasted, counting hot dog buns and waxing poetic about cooking?

Tony can’t even think of it, wondering how the hell he’d missed it. 

The kid would never get the chance to learn how to cook if he didn’t… fucking… breathe.

“COME ON, PETER. COME ON.” Tony’s yelling, the anxiety and the dread manifesting into full-fledged fear. 

He can’t die, not like this. Of all the shit the kid had been through, of all the things Tony had done to save him, dying in a fucking cliff diving accident was not on the fucking table.

Tony delivers two more rescue breaths, feeling the tears welling up in his eyes as he continues compressions.

“Peter, kid. Please, don’t do this. Please. Please.” Tony times his pleas with his compressions, the act of it breaking him as Peter’s remains unnaturally still, his lips a horrifying shade of blue, his body turning pale white. 

Tony shudders at the sight, refusing to accept it as he continues to give compressions. 

_ No. No. No. No. No. _

It’s a cycle in his head, a ringing in his ears. Peter couldn’t die, not like this - not ever. He’d done too much to save him, risked everything to bring him back. 

He starts to beat on Peter’s chest, the tears stinging his eyes. 

“Fuck. Come on, Peter. Come on. COME ON.” 

He lands one last blow on his chest, Tony shaking as the terror overwhelms him. He can’t lose Peter, not like this - not with something he could’ve prevented, something he should’ve watched out for. It’s benign, common - a death that makes Tony’s head spin. 

Peter had fought against aliens, alongside wizards and gods. The idea of Peter dying in something as simple as an accident, Tony just feet away from him, on a lazy three day weekend is beyond him. 

As if the universe heard his pleas, Tony hears an awful sound that quickly turns into immeasurable relief. Peter starts to gag, lurching to life as Tony immediately rushes the kid to his side, not even caring at he vomits out the water that had filled his lungs. 

Tony rubs his back soothingly, waiting as Peter’s body forces the water out, the kid almost convulsing with how much of it had been there. As soon as Tony can see that the water’s out, clearing the vomit out with his fingers, he gingerly lays the kid back down, watching in relief as Peter starts to breathe. 

It’s ugly, gasping and haggard and yet to Tony, it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. 

Tony checks for a pulse, an afterthought at the sound of the kid’s breathing. Peter’s heartbeat is steady, if not slow, Tony pushing away some of the kid’s wet hair out of his face. 

Tony can smell the hot dogs burning, but can’t even bring his eyes up to look at them - solely focused on Peter. 

“God, kid. You really trying to give me a heart attack, huh?” Tony whispers, putting his hands to Peter’s face. 

Peter doesn’t respond, his eyes still closed, his breath still shaky and irregular. But Tony doesn’t care, the tears still flowing down his face - in relief. 

The kid was alive. 

The kid hadn’t died. 

And to Tony, that’s all that mattered. 


	7. Biological Dad AU

“Mr. Parker?” 

Peter glanced up, looking at the man in a tracksuit up and down.

“Can I… help you?” The guy shrugged, handing him a large brown envelope with a clipboard on top. Peter looked down at it and frowned. 

“What’s this?”

“Beats me, here just sign so I can go. I got a lot more deliveries to get to.” Peter made a face, grabbing a pen from his desk as he scribbled his signature on the clipboard. Guy double-checked it, nodded then went to leave. 

“Hey, you didn’t say who it was from?” 

“Read the label, man. Have a good day!” 

Peter watches as the man leaves, shaking his head as his co-worker looks back to him.

“You got served or something, Parker?”

Peter shrugs, looking back down to the large envelope in his hands. 

NELSON AND MURDOCK, ATTORNEYS AT LAW 

The name doesn’t ring a bell for Peter, ripping the envelope open and letting the contents fall into his lap.

His stomach drops, eyes widening as his co-worker leans over.

“Oh shit.” 

Mark’s voice is distant, Peter staring at the papers in front of him.

COMPLAINT FOR CUSTODY 

Peter’s feels as if he can’t breathe, Mark’s comment rattling around in his head. 

_ Complaint for custody? Custody of what? From who? _

Peter has an engineering degree from MIT, a Master’s from Columbia, and yet he can’t quite put two and two together at the package in front of him. 

It’s not until he brings the papers up, when a small photograph falls out from them that Peter’s mind starts snapping the pieces together, connecting the dots even as his stomach drops.

A small, dark-haired child smiles up at him, brown eyes gleaming. Peter could only guess the kid’s two or three, Peter has had little experience with kids he has no idea - but it’s when he turns the photograph over that the final puzzle piece snaps into place. 

_ His name is Anthony, but I call him Tony. _

_ He’s yours. _

_ \- F _

* * *

“Peter, did you stop by the store?” Peter’s head snaps up, sitting at the small dinner table in the tiny apartment that he and Michelle shared. 

“Um, sorry, MJ, I didn’t, I got---” She waves her hand, kissing him on the cheek as she rushes toward the kitchen anyway, dropping her purse on the counter. 

“It’s fine, I figured as much. You want me to call Chang’s or should I?”

Peter doesn’t answer, mind still whirring as Michelle stops, turns back to him.

“Peter?”

“Hmm?” He blinks a few times, Michelle’s eyes narrowing.

“You have that same look on your face that you get when you forgot to pay rent even after I reminded you three times.” Peter bites his lip, Michelle’s look turning from one of annoyance to concern.

“Pete? What’s wrong?” She sits down in the chair across from him, reaches her hand across the table. 

Peter squeezes her hand, building the courage to tell her something that could - that  _ would _ \- change everything for them.

_ If she even wants to be a them after this. _

Peter takes the photo out of his pocket with his free hand, sliding it over to Michelle. She lets go of his hand, looking at it as she tilts her head.

“Cute kid. Whose is it?” 

Peter just stares, Michelle’s eyes widening as she turns the photograph over.

She looks back to Peter, an unreadable expression on her face. 

Peter waits, as Michelle takes a deep breath and sighs.

“Well shit.” 

* * *

She takes it a lot better than he had, all things considered.

Michelle was a problem-solver, a solution-seeker. If there was an issue with a landlord, her manager, a cashier - Michelle was the first one to step in, solve the problem before it became a huge issue. 

It’s part of the reason why she was such a damn good reporter, and one of the many reasons that Peter loved her. 

He’s still thrown by how easily she accepted this, as if this photograph and custody papers from his ex didn’t irrevocably change everything about their world - about their lives and relationship. 

It’d been a fling, a summer romance, Peter only meeting Felicia as he tried to drown his sorrows in a bar. 

Felicia was fiery and wild, in a way that was similar to and yet different from Michelle. Whereas Michelle’s passion was focused, determined on her goals and ambitions - Felicia had taken life as it came, throwing herself at everyone and everything - feeling everything so vividly that it made Peter’s head spin. 

It was all passion, fire and lust in a way that Peter had never felt before - yet it was never meant to last. The heat of the summer gave way to fall, Peter’s desire for stability clashing with Felicia’s desire to keep things loose. They’d broken up a few weeks before Peter started his final year at Columbia - a month later, he’d patched things up with Michelle.

Peter had expected Michelle to be angry, to be hurt -  _ something _ more than stoic acceptance. She’d double-checked the papers he’d been served, questioned aloud about a paternity test but other than that - Michelle had been nothing if not immediately supportive. 

It baffled Peter, as he pushed the shopping cart through the baby store - watching in amazement as Michelle plucked another blanket off the shelves. 

“I don’t think kids need this many blankets.”

“If he’s your son, then trust me,” Michelle locked eyes with him, setting the fourth blanket into the car, “He’ll be freezing all the time.” 

They hold each other’s gaze for a second before Michelle turns, busying herself with the list on her phone.

“MJ.”   
  
“Come on, Pete. We should head to the toy aisle before we leave. I don’t know what toddlers like but I figure he’s your kid so he’ll enjoy his first LEGO set or something.”

“MJ.”

“Shit, can toddlers even play with LEGOs? How old is he again?”

“Michelle.” She stops, sighing as Peter grabs her hand. 

“Are you okay?” 

“What do you think, Peter? Are  _ you _ okay?”

Peter shakes his head, dumbfounded. “I, I don’t know what I am to be honest.” 

She bites her lip, looking into Peter’s eyes.

“You think he’s yours?”

“I… I don’t know, MJ. It’s… possible?” Peter shakes his head, eyes dancing around until it settles on some kind of nightlight. 

“How possible?”

“Felicia and I weren’t always careful, she was a lot more….” Peter trails off, Michelle seemingly understanding.

“Spontaneous?” Peter presses his lips together, inwardly kicking himself. He hated the idea of making Michelle feel she was second best, like she wasn’t as exciting or as passionate or as incredible as the blonde-haired bombshell that had just upended Peter’s entire world. 

He liked being with Felicia, at the time. She had been so different from Michelle, similar to her in the barest of ways - but it’d been just what he needed to forget how heartbroken he was, to throw himself into bed with someone who made him feel alive. 

And now, nearly three years after - right when he and Michelle had started to come into a good rhythm, right after Peter had already bought a ring - when his biggest concern had been how to figure out the most romantic and yet less cheesy way he could ask for her to spend the rest of her life with him - their entire world shifted once again. 

Felicia could be lying, he knew the smart thing to do would be to do a paternity test. But for all of Felicia’s coy smiles and snarky quips and sarcastic remarks - he can sense it in his gut that she wouldn’t do something like this. 

Their breakup had been amicable enough, Felicia being the one to break it off before Peter ever could. Peter hadn’t given much thought to Felicia afterwards, too blissfully grateful that he’d been able to make things work with Michelle. 

Felicia was a lot of things - she hadn’t told him about Anthony, had kept the truth hidden from for years - but this, giving him the biggest fuck you on the planet, only letting him know that he was a father after her death, seemed a bit too cruel - too out there, even for her. 

Michelle brings him out of his thoughts, gripping his hand tighter. 

“We’ll figure this out, Pete.” 

Peter searched for her eyes, looking for a hint of betrayal, or hurt, or anger - but all Peter saw mirrored back was a deep, unrelenting love - something Peter didn’t feel that he deserved. 

“Together.” 

Michelle smiled, the pressure of her hands making Peter feel grounded. 

“Together.” 

* * *

“Papa!” 

“I’m coming, Tony, hold on.” Tony’s hands reach for him anyway, Michelle laughing and rolling her eyes. 

“He’s your kid, alright. Never listens to a damn thing anyone says.” Peter gives her a look, picking Tony up with ease as he wraps his tiny arms around Peter’s neck. 

“Mama said a bad word.” 

Peter opens his mouth in shock, Michelle grinning.

“Yes she did,” Peter bringing Tony around the dining room table. “What do you think we should do about that?”

Tony thinks a minute, Peter’s heart swelling at the way his little hands went to his face, a mimic of something Peter himself had done countless times before when he was young.

“Kiss attack!” Tony yells, Peter smiling as Michelle takes a step back, shaking her head.

“Oh no you don’t. Peter, Tony still has jelly over his hands.” Peter grins, taking a step forward as Tony lurches forward. 

“Mama, kiss attack!” Michelle’s face melts just a little, Peter’s heart skipping a beat at the sight as he takes another step forward. 

“Peter.” 

“MJ.”

She smiles, rolls her eyes before meeting them halfway, crashing her lips onto Peter’s, feeling the smile on her lips as Tony’s little arms wrap around them both. 

He laughs as Tony alternates between kissing Peter and Michelle’s cheek, the slobber and jelly getting over the both of them. 

As Michelle just laughs, taking Tony out of Peter’s arms, Peter just smiles. 

He hadn’t expected Michelle to take this as well as she did but now, almost a year later - he couldn’t imagine his life any different.

* * *

“Dad?”

“Hmm?” Peter looked up from his desk, shoulders tensing at the look on Tony’s face.

He could tell there was a question brewing behind those brown eyes, a serious one from the way Tony wrung his hands together. 

Tony was so much like Peter, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders when he had no business doing so.

When they’d first gotten the paternity test - an afterthought, after Peter had laid his eyes on Tony, knowing in his gut that the boy in front of him was his son - Peter had been so concerned about Tony inheriting his powers, wondered if the bite that had changed him somehow ran through his son’s veins. 

It hadn’t, as far as they could tell - Peter breathing a sigh of relief. He never wanted Tony to feel the burden of responsibility, the need and desire to solve the world’s problems with everything he had. 

Peter should've guessed that his son - spider-powers or not - wouldn’t be able to escape that feeling. 

Tony was smart, smarter than he had any right to be according to Michelle. He’d tinker with his toys, breaking them apart and putting them back together - only better and in ways that made even Peter blink in surprise. 

It was something he’d whisper to Michelle, conversations before bed about how they could nurture Tony, encourage him as best they could with their limited salary and means. 

But that did nothing for Tony’s raving curiosity, his inner desire to push himself further and harder - in ways Peter wished he could just kiss away, tickle and joke like he did those first few years he’d come into their lives. 

It’s that kind of look that Tony has on his face now, Peter sitting back in his chair - looking over his son in concern.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?”

Tony bites his lip, wrangles his hands together before sighing, coming over to where Peter was. 

“I’m… I was just thinking….”

“Careful, kid. Thinking is what gets you grounded.” Tony laughs half-heartedly, glancing away, Peter’s eyebrows furrowing.

“Anthony.” Tony brings his head up, biting his lip again.

“I’m… I was just wondering, about my mom.”

Peter freezes, wishing that Michelle hadn’t stepped out to the gym. She was so much better at this than he was, a gentleness that Peter had only seen glimpses of when they were young. But Michelle wasn’t due to come back for at least an hour, and Tony was here - brown eyes big and searching Peter’s.

Peter lets out a low exhale, motioning for Tony to come closer to him. Tony does, leaning against the desk. He was seven now, much too old for cuddling in his own words but Peter knew that this kind of conversation would need more than words to ease any wounds. 

“What’d you want to know, kid?”

Tony looks back down to his hands, Peter’s heart breaking. 

He thought he and Michelle had done all that they could to make Tony feel loved, safe and protected. To let Tony know that his mother loved him, that Michelle could never replace her - never wanted to. 

But Peter knew as best as anyone what it was like to live in the shadow of your parents being gone, to wrestle with parental figures who you didn’t come from - yet you knew they loved you completely. 

It was a difficult thing to wrestle with, one that Peter had done when he wasn’t much older than Tony was. Of course Tony’s mind would go towards that same line of thinking, on a random Saturday when Michelle was out. 

_ You’re really too much like me, kid. _

“I just, I mean, did she-- why didn’t she tell you about me? You know, before…” Tony trails off, Peter’s shoulders slumping. 

“Oh kid.” He can see the tears welling up in Tony’s eyes, hands outstretched to him as Tony rushes forward, burrowing his head into Peter’s chest. 

“I don’t understand. I just don’t understand why she didn’t tell you.” Peter closes his eyes, wrapping his arms around his son.

How could he try and explain the unexplainable mystery that was Felicia? How could Peter try and explain that whirlwind of their romance, the foolish mistake that had led to the greatest thing in Peter’s life?

How could he try and explain to Tony that Peter still wrestled with those same questions, how years and years later he was still filled with a mix of frustrated and hurt and understanding for why Felicia had kept the biggest secret of his life from him - only telling him after she’d passed on from a quick and brutal bout of cancer. 

Sometimes Peter wondered had she hadn’t died, if Felicia would’ve ever told him the truth at all.

But Peter couldn’t share that with Tony - not now, maybe not ever.

All he really could do is be thankful - that no matter the circumstances, no matter the challenges and problems that they still faced - that he had Tony. 

“I don’t know, Tony. I don’t know.” He whispers to son, comforting him as best that he could.

Peter didn’t have all the answers, knew enough about parenting that he never would. All Peter could do - could hope, pray, believe - is that Tony knew that he was loved.

That it didn’t matter to Peter that he hadn’t been there for his birth, that he didn’t know his son had even existed until he was almost three years old. 

Holding Tony tight in his arms, feeling Tony lean into the embrace, Peter thought to himself that he could only try and spend the rest of his life showing Tony how much he loved him, would protect him, would hold him for as long as he could. 

Peter hadn’t been there for the beginning.

But Peter made a promise to himself that he’d be there for Tony until the end. 


	8. Major Character Death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: 
> 
> MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH —
> 
> I posted a [one-shot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20483087) the other day of an idea I’ve had for months. A commenter wanted to know what Peter’s POV of the situation would be and then this happened. Though I think of these as companion pieces, they both can be read as stand-alone. 
> 
> This is all angst, no comfort - please be aware.

Peter laughed as Michelle fiddled with the radio, Ned leaning forward.

“MJ, you’re not going to find a different song from the same station within seconds of—“

“Cool it, Leeds. Shotgun gets radio privileges.” Ned sighed, Peter putting his turn signal on as he switched lanes.

The rain outside was quiet, steady in a way that would almost lull him to sleep. But Peter was antsy, almost anxious with anticipation, feeling as if he was doing something wrong even if it was just a surprise. 

He knew May didn’t care if he took the car, especially on weekends when she ended up staying over at Happy’s more often than not. Peter still wasn’t completely used to the idea of the two of them together, but if they wanted to spend time together at Happy’s apartment - with no risk of Peter walking in on something that would scar him for life - he was more than okay with that.

_I’ll have to text her when we get there, let her know I have the car._

Peter knew Happy picked May up from work anyways, Friday nights usually being a date night. Peter didn’t mind - May seemed happy to let him hang out with MJ on Fridays too, though how long she’d be okay with the arrangement - especially with school starting again soon - remained to be seen.

“Peter, your _girlfriend_ is hogging the radio.”

“Pete, your _boyfriend_ needs to calm down.”

Ned scoffs as Peter laughs again. 

“Don’t make me turn this car around.” He smirked, catching the eye roll from Michelle.

“Like that’ll happen. You sure Stark’s okay with us just, dropping by? What if he and Pepper have some kind of plans?”

“Mr. Stark’ll be thrilled to see us, he loves Peter and by default - me. And you. I for one am very much looking forward to seeing the cabin.” Ned sighs dramatically. “Since I didn’t get to see it _last time_.”

“Ned—“

“No, it’s fine, Peter. I see how it is, you get a girlfriend and suddenly you forget your best friend.” 

Michelle laughs, Peter catching the smile on Ned’s face from the rear view mirror.

“Please. You know damn well that if Peter had to choose between the two of us, he’d choose you.”

“MJ, I think you seriously underestimate the almost embarrassing length of time that Peter had a crush on you.”

As the two of them playfully bicker, Peter just laughs again - eyes going back to the road as a familiar itch in the back of his neck starts to flare.

There was danger coming, something was wrong. But aside from light rain - more of a drizzle - there didn’t seem to be anything wrong on the dark road ahead.

Peter glances behind him before switching lanes again, turning on to the highway that would lead him to Tony’s, a drive he knew like the back of his hand.

Tony had been ecstatic when Peter finally got his license, a nightmare of paperwork made worse by the Blip. But after it was done, Peter no longer had any issues or problems in making it up to the cabin to visit - something he had done often this past summer.

* * *

“Kid, you got the hotdogs?”

“I got the hotdogs _and_ Morgan?” Tony looked back to the two of them, laughing as he saw Peter hold a platter of food in one hand and held Morgan in a football hold in the other.

“You alright there Morguna?”

“I’m a rocketship!” Peter laughed as Tony grinned.

“Yeah, kid you’re a rocket ship.” Tony’s eyes gleamed as he walked ahead, Peter smiling at the sight.

It was nice to be at the cabin, a reminder for Peter that even if the entire world had changed - Tony’s included - that there was still a place for him, still a place where he belonged. 

The long nights waiting in the medbay, wishing and pleading for Tony to recover from a snap that had saved the universe was all in the past now, Peter glancing to Tony’s new mechanical arm as he walked ahead of them. 

It was one of the many changes that Peter would have live with, another normal he’d have to adjust to. 

But considering he’d been dead for the past five years - or whatever those who had been Blipped could officially count themselves - Peter had a lot to catch up on. 

There was the usual things, the chaos of moving and switching apartments - adjusting to a city that hadn’t grown beyond tragedy but around it. 

Peter was at least thankful that they hadn’t had to deal with school - for now, at least. He was excited to get back into it, excited to learn more about what he’d missed. 

But Peter couldn’t lie - he knew he’d miss lazy days out with Tony, Pepper and Morgan more. 

Tony had gone over and above in making him feel welcome, going a step beyond what any person recovering from saving the universe should have. But Peter could understand.

Peter missed a lot in the past five years. Namely, the wriggling child in his arm.

“Rocket ship!” Morgan’s hands shot up in front of her, Peter laughing again as swung her slightly. Morgan weighed next to nothing, but Peter adjusted his grip anyway - making sure to keep her steady as her hands moved in front of her. 

“You’re great at this. You think you want to be an astronaut when you get older?”

“Yep.”

Tony whirled around, Peter seeing the look of amusement on his face. 

“I thought you wanted to be a business woman, run a company like mom?”

“That too. Astronaut on the weekends.”

“Oh is that all?” Tony winked, Peter smirking as he gently set Morgan down - arriving to the picnic table and grill Tony had set up. 

It was just a hundred feet or so away from the cabin’s backdoor, a spot that overlooked the lake that made Peter feel at peace. 

It was quiet at the cabin, a calm that he relished if only because he still felt like he was adjusting back to the city - his trip to space having changed him in more ways than one. 

No one remembered the Blip, what happened in the time between. Peter coudn’t rightfully say that he did - but at night, when he slept - he’d dream of noise, constant sounds and colors swirling everywhere and around. 

It was disorienting, making Peter feel disjointed anytime he woke up. 

Yet he never had that nightmare when he was at the cabin with Tony.

“You gonna hand me those or do you just want to stand and look pretty?” Tony’s voice brings Peter out of his thoughts, handing him the platter. Morgan ran towards the lake, Tony calling out. 

“Hey, hey, watch it. Too close and I’ll sic Gerald after you.” Morgan giggled, Peter smiling as he watched her.

Morgan was bright, fiercely funny and intense in a way that’s both surprising and completely expected for the daughter of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. He liked being around her, learning more about her - even if there had been a small part of Peter that had wondered if he was still needed, if he was just in the way of Tony’s family.

But then he’d catch Tony staring at him a beat too long - a look that he’s giving Peter just now - and it would hit him.

For Peter, the Blip had been seconds - moving from a spaceship to a battle to a hug in minutes.

For Tony, it had been five years - and Peter could see how much those years had changed him, not just with the existence of Morgan, but his own attention and care towards Peter.

“You alright, kid?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just,” Peter glanced out over to Morgan and then to the water. “Enjoying the quiet. It’s nice, being out here.” 

Tony nodded back, putting hotdogs on the grill. “It’s a good place to retire, that’s for sure.” 

A comfortable silence falls between them, Peter pursing his lips as he sits down on the picnic table.

“Are you?”

“Hm?” Tony glances back to him, looking more at peace than Peter can ever remember seeing him. 

Tony had always been a ball of frenetic energy, a mixture of sleepless nights and multiple cups of coffee that had even made Peter’s head spin. But there’s a lightness to him now, a gentle rhythm to his life that makes Peter think that even if the snap that had saved the universe had almost killed him - that maybe it’s just what he needed, the push for Tony to finally _rest_. 

“Retired? I mean, I saw the garage. You still have a ton of suit material stuff in there.” 

Tony just hums in response, turning his attention back to the hotdogs. Peter would almost think he’s dismissing him until Tony speaks up again, glancing back to Peter.

“I like to tinker, but I’ll admit kid, any fight I had left the minute I got this.” Tony waved his mechanical arm, Peter’s giving him a half-smile.

“Besides, who needs Iron Man when the world’s got the _amazing_ Spider-Man?” 

Peter laughs. “You saw that? They’re making a comic book about me.”

“Saw it, pre-ordered it, already looking forward to making a shrine to it, kid.” Peter rolled his eyes, tilting his head. 

“Retirement looks good on you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony just smiles in return, a gaze that reminds Peter of the look that he’d given him on the battlefield - right before pulling him into a fierce hug. 

Tony had never been much of a touchy feely person before - but this, along with many things, was a new normal that Peter would be glad to adjust to. 

“ _=Happiness_ looks good on anyone, Pete. And sitting here with you, little miss over there planning world domination…” Tony’s gets a faraway look in his eye, faintly smiling before turning his eyes back to Peter. 

“There’s nothing more I could ever want.” 

* * *

The memory still rings in Peter’s mind as drives along the highway, MJ and Ned having moved on to some pop culture event that they’d missed.

It was still weird, adjusting to life after the Blip. Though Peter knows he shouldn’t be glad that both MJ and Ned had blipped - leaving their parents behind - he couldn’t help but feel grateful that he had the two of them by his side.

Walking back into step with Ned, a new relationship that felt anything but with MJ - it was as if the universe had given Peter a second chance, one he hadn’t even realized he needed.

Before the Blip, he’d been so eager to prove himself - to show that he was worthy of being a hero. But now, five years that passed in an instant - Peter realized that this time, he could be different. 

Tony almost died bringing him and the rest of the world back. Peter didn’t feel worthy of it - but he knew he’d spend the rest of his life showing Tony that he was.

The itch in the back of his neck suddenly turns into a full-fledged panic, terror immediately flooding Peter as his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Peter?” Michelle immediately notices the change, Ned still continuing his thought.

He doesn’t get the chance to.

Out of nowhere, they’re slammed - the impact of it so severe that Peter almost blacks out.

There’s screams, glass crashing and a shift in gravity.

Until there’s only silence.

* * *

He hears the radio first.

The rain still steadily falling on his face, Peter comes to with a gasp - wheezing as pain shoots through him.

He opens his eyes, glancing up at the dark sky above him.

He can’t move, he can’t feel his legs - though Peter isn’t sure if it’s because there’s something on him or if it was a sign of something worse. 

He goes to move his head to see only to feel like he’s been shocked, crying out as he leaned his head back.

Peter tried to get his bearings, tries to take a steady breath but there’s an immediate pressure on his chest, like he can’t take a full breath.

Peter’s been injured enough to know what a collapsed lung feels like, his mind wandering to what the lack of feeling in his legs could mean.

It’s then that Peter remembers that he wasn’t alone - that he was in a car with Ned and Michelle.

_Oh God._

“MJ? MJ where are you?”

Silence - save for the steady rhythm of some jazz song on the radio, Peter remembering the last station Michelle had landed on.

“Ned? Ned, can you, where are—“ Peter’s voice is cut off with a hacking cough, panicking as his mouth starts to feel metallic.

_Okay. Okay. Think, Peter. Think._

Peter kicks himself for leaving his watch at home, the one specially made and gifted from Tony. It had been an afterthought, leaving it behind because of the proximity sensor - knowing that it would go off and spoil the surprise. 

Peter’s mind starts to blur, his thoughts slowing down as his breathing became more labored.

_Where are they? Why aren’t they answering?_

It’s a beat too long before Peter remembers his hearing, remembers his ability to listen - to hear beyond.

It’d been a sense that he’d tried to subdue in the past few months, one that he hadn’t needed to flex much.

But now it’s like a lightning rod, a reminder that Peter’s not alone - that MJ and Ned could be in trouble, may need his help - even if Peter wonders how much help he could really be.

He closes his eyes, struggling to breathe as he wheezed. The back of his throat felt wet, Peter knowing the pool of wetness in his chest and around his head had less to do with the drizzle above him but of the blood pouring out of him. 

But as he closes his eyes, struggling to focus - Peter feels his breath quicken, a panic welling up. 

He hears the rain, hears the radio, can hear animals and cars far away.

But the thing he’s listening for - the only sounds he cares about, two heartbeats - he can’t hear at all.

Peter wants to panic, almost would if not for his inability to do anything but wheeze. 

“Ned? MJ? Are you, are you oka--” Peter starts to violently cough again, pain shooting up his back, down his chest from the movement. 

He hears nothing in return, Peter feeling as if he’s been sucker-punched.

There should be at least three heartbeats surrounding him - Ned, MJ, and whoever it was that had hit them. 

Peter could’ve guessed from the impact that whoever it was had been long gone, crashing straight into Peter’s side of the vehicle so fast that even Peter’s reflexes hadn’t been enough to stop it. It doesn’t make sense to Peter’s addled brain, he should’ve stopped it, he should’ve—

Peter’s cut off by the wetness in the back of his throat, coughing up more blood as pain radiates through him.

The silence that he hears - save for the rain and the damn radio - is all the confirmation he needs.

The other driver, MJ, Ned - they’re gone. 

Peter’s alone.

He gasps, weakly as his eyes glance up to the stars.

Peter had imagined his death more times than what was likely considered normal, a consequence of facing it almost daily as a superhero.

Death, the first time - had been quick, a fading away that made his insides crumble. 

He could feel it, the pull from this world to another. His mind wanders, the pain of leaving - knowing that MJ and Ned had already gone.

Looking up at the night sky, rain still falling softly on his face - Peter’s last thoughts went to May and Tony, a sadness that he’d never have the chance to say goodbye. 

Peter wheezes, closing his eyes.

_I’m sorry._

* * *

Tony hummed to himself, putting away the last of the dishes. It’s late, later than he’d planned on being up but Pepper had been waiting for a business call and Tony - though he had no interest in it - liked sitting with her.

It was a quiet night, peaceful - as most of his nights were now. 

He hears the phone ring in the other room, hears Pepper grab it as he closed the cabinet.

“This is Pepper.”

Tony walks towards the living room, grabbing a StarkPad as he goes to sit down. 

Pepper’s soft gasp makes him turn before he sits, searching for her face as Tony stills. 

The look on her face is one that he’d recognize anywhere - a signal that something was wrong.

The hair on the back of Tony’s neck raises, immediately going towards Pepper.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Pepper’s hand goes to her mouth, shaking her head in shock. Tony can hear crying on the other end, his eyes widening.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” 

“I’ll, I’ll call back, happy. I have to, I have to— I’ll call back, I promise. Tell May we’ll be there as soon as we can.” Pepper hangs up before he can answer, Tony immediately freezing. 

_May? What could—_

_Oh God._

“Pepper.”

“Tony, we should sit.”

“Pepper, tell me what happened.” Tony is poised, arm half-extended to call the suit - his stomach churning.

Happy would only call this late if something was wrong, if Peter needed help or was in trouble.

But there’s a desperation in Pepper’s face that causes Tony to panic, shaking his head as she tries to speak.

“Tony, it’s.. it’s Peter.”

“Tell me where he is. Let May know, I’m on my way, I’ll—“

Pepper’s hand gently goes to his shoulders, Tony’s breath hitching as Pepper seemed to steel herself.

Tony feels the panic in the back of his throat, the look on her face reminding him of how she’d looked when Morgan had broken her arm when he’d been out for groceries, a look that he knows means she’s bracing herself - and him - for something.

_No._

“Pepper.”

“Tony, Peter’s… Peter was in an accident.” Tony blinks, nodding his head.

“So tell me where he is. Which hospital, I’ll be there in—“

Pepper shakes her head, Tony seeing her lip slightly tremble.

“No. Tony, he— they found May’s car an hour ago. Peter and his friends, they were driving and there was an accident.”

The words don’t register with Tony, shaking his head. “Tell me where they are, Pepper, I’ll go—“

“ _Tony._ ” Pepper’s eyes plead with him, the sinking feeling in his stomach magnifying.

_No. No. No. No. No._

Pepper takes advantage of his silence, pushing forward.

“He’s gone.”

It’s immediate, crushing - an anguish that doesn’t register with Tony, an ache that threatens to consume him.

“He’s, he’s fine. He called yesterday, everything’s- everything’s fine.”

Pepper shakes her head, bringing a hand to his face. The tears in her eyes cause Tony’s own hands to shake, his throat constricting.

“Tony.” 

Pepper says nothing more but the darkness in her eyes, the desolation he knows is mirrored back is enough to bowl him over. 

It hits him - the look in Pepper’s eyes, the anguish of something he can’t begin to comprehend. 

Pepper wouldn’t lie to him. 

Neither does the ache in his gut, the feeling as if he’s sinking into a black hole. 

There is nothing that compares to the quick and sudden emptiness that consumes him. 

Flying a missile into space. The vision of his friends dead on a hilltop. 

Holding Peter as he faded away. 

Tony’s knees buckle as Pepper grabs him, a sharp gasp as he wheezes.

 _I brought him back_ . _I brought them all back._

The grief is overwhelming, blinding - Tony feeling as if he’s been gutted from the inside out. 

His shoulders start to shake, a sob let out that he can’t stop.

It’s impossible, unimaginable - horrifying in a way his mind can’t comprehend.

Tony had risked everything to bring the universe - to bring _Peter_ \- back. He’d lost an arm, nearly lost his life. But Peter returning had made the hole in his heart complete, a feeling that for once - he had been given a second chance at a happy ending.

But his shoulders continue to shake, an agonizing wail coming out of him - Tony’s mind can’t wrap itself around this. 

There would be no recovering from this, nothing that would soothe or ease the pain of this loss. Tony had already lost an arm but now he feels as if he’s lost his entire body, succumbing to the endless waves of grief washing over him.

As Pepper holds him tight, rocking him back and forth, Tony feels nothing - everything and nothing in excruciating detail.

He didn’t know how, couldn’t wrap his head around why - but he knew in his soul that Pepper was telling the truth. 

Peter was gone. 

Peter was dead.

And Tony would never recover from this. 


	9. Gunshot.

“Hey Parker!”

Peter rolled his eyes moving forward - gripping his backpack closer to him. Michelle was waiting for him at the library and Peter had had enough of Flash for the day.

He’d been on his case all week, more so than usual. Peter could take it most days but he’d reached his limit - exhausted from patrol last night and annoyed that he hadn’t had the chance to study for his Spanish quiz.

“Parker, I’m talking to you.”

“And I’m ignoring you, Flash. Get with the program.”

Peter can hear the footsteps behind him, rushing up to him in a huff.

“Come on Parker, what the hell’s your problem?” Peter keeps walking. He can still hear Flash running up to him, a part of Peter wondering if he actually needed something.

“Parker.” Peter sighs, knowing that Flash would damn well follow him to the library if he didn’t see what he wanted - already seeing the annoyed look on Michelle’s face if he did.

“What do you want, Flash?”

“I want, I need—“ Flash wheezed, trying to catch his breath. Peter would almost feel bad for him, if it wasn’t the same person who had tried to make his entire high school experience a living hell.

Whatever it is couldn’t possibly be that serious, not enough to chase after him.

“You have—chem notes.” Peter barely stifled a laugh, shaking his head.

“You ran half a block for some notes?”

“No. I ran because you— took  _ my _ — chem notes.” Flash wheezes, putting his hands on his knees. “And I need them back, before the test tomorrow.”

Peter gives him a look, going for his backpack.

“I’m pretty sure I’d know if I took your notes, Flash.” Peter watches as Flash wipes some sweat off his forehead, zipping open his backpack.

He knows that even if he did take Flash’s notes - which seemed unlikely, they didn’t even sit at the same desk for chem class - that for all the shit Flash gave him, Peter should just let him suffer. It’s not like if the roles were reversed that Flash would care.

But Peter was better than that, Ben and May had raised him better than that. So he checked anyway.

As expected, he didn’t, Flash’s face turning from one of exhaustion to confusion.

“What do you mean you don’t have them?”

“I mean I don’t have them.”

“You have to. You were the only one by my lab desk.”

“Your desk is by the door, we all pass by it.” Flash shook his head, Peter zipping his backpack up and swinging it over his shoulder.

“No, I saw you take it. Our notebooks look the same. Check again.”

“I’m not checking—” Peter’s senses start to go off, immediately straightening his back.

“You listening, Parker? I said check—“

“Shut up.” Peter put a hand to Flash’s mouth.

Something was wrong.

He can hear Flash’s muffled indignation under his mouth, could feel him wriggle under his grasp - surprised that he couldn’t. But Peter lifted a building off of himself, controlled himself all the time to not give suspicion. He wasn’t about to let Flash overpower him - not now.

Not when something was about to happen.

Peter hears it before he sees it, a man walking towards them from the alleyway.

“Peter, the fuck—“ he hears Flash’s muffled words, his hands trying to move Peter’s in vain.

The man walks faster, Peter’s senses going haywire.

“Get out of here.”

“Like hell I am, give me my notes Parker. I’m not kidding around anymore.”

The man gets closer to them, the sense of dread building in his stomach the closer he gets to them. He’s walking with purpose, the kind of stride of someone who knew exactly what he was doing and where he was going.

If he was by himself, Peter could handle it without a problem.

But Flash was there, looking back at him furious and Peter - for all his aggravation - wasn’t about to let him get hurt.

“I said—“ Peter lets his hand off Flash’s mouth only to put it out in front of them, just when the man from the alley brings out a gun.

“Don’t make this difficult.”

“What do you want?”

“To send Stark a message.”

Peter sizes him up, hearing Flash’s stupid voice ringing through the air.

“Wait Stark? What the hell does he—“

“ _ Shut up. _ ” Peter’s voice is sharp, eyes still on the man in front of him.

The expression on his face is neutral, gun still pointed towards them. Flash seems to realize what’s going on, Peter wincing at the panic in his voice.

“Whoa whoa whoa hold on, what’s going, Parker give him your wallet. Here sir, you can have mine, I don’t need—“

“Shut. Up.” Peter sharply whispers, trying and failing to make the connection of who was in front of him. Everything in him is screaming for him to run, to leave, swing himself away.

He could’ve, if it was just him. But Flash is there, panicking - and doesn’t know Peter’s secret.

So Peter does the next best thing.

He deflects.

“Look, it sounds like you got a personal issue and I’m just an intern, so you might want to take it up with HR or something, have them—“

Peter doesn’t get the chance to finish his statement when the shot rings out.

* * *

It’s hot, burning, Peter almost bewildered at how gravity shifts. One moment he’s staring into the eyes of a stranger and in the next he’s on the ground, eyes to the sky.

Peter saw him go for the trigger, had a half-second to move, but Flash beside him threw him off - a question of how he could move so quickly without causing a scene.

But now Peter’s on the ground, his breath hitching as it suddenly starts to get harder to breathe.

“Holy shit! Holy shit, he shot, he shot you! Help! Police! Help!” Flash is screaming, Peter’s ears ringing as he gasps out in pain. He sees Flash’s head hover over him, the panic clear in his eyes.

“Peter!?

“Call—“ Peter coughs, his chest burning. It’s like the wind’s been kicked out of him, Peter’s eyes glancing towards where the man had been.

He’s gone, just as quickly as he had appeared but Peter’s thoughts are elsewhere, wheezing as he tried to focus.

“Oh shit, what do I do? What do I do? I’m calling 911.”

Flash goes for his phone and Peter tries to extend his hand out to stop him but his arm feels like lead, seeing spots in his vision. It hurts to breathe, hurts to think, but the rational part of his brain is telling him that going to the hospital is a bad idea - even if he’s slowly starting to forget why.

“No—no 911.” He pants, his eyebrows furrowing are how far away his voice sounds. He feels a pressure on his chest, looking down to see Flash’s hand over where he’s been shot - blood pouring over it as he tries to take out his phone, hands shaking as he tries to dial.

There’s blood everywhere, enough that it makes Peter dizzy. The burning hasn’t gone away but Peter’s distracted, watching in a daze as Flash seems to argue back.

“What the fuck do you mean no 911? You’re gonna bleed out if we don’t do something.”

_ Bleed out? _ Peter thinks, taking a beat too long to realize what he was saying - still bewildered at the worry in Flash’s eyes.

Flash wasn’t nice to him, never had been. For him to be so worried must mean that it’s serious.

“Call Tony.” Peter garbles out, coughing up what he assumes is blood - his whole body shaking as he does, wincing. When he opens his eyes again, Peter sees the anger in Flash’s eyes - thinly veiled under the fear.

“Enough with the bullshit, Peter! I’m calling—“

“Call…T’ny.” Peter feels his eyes start to flutter, hand trying to press down on the watch that he gave him. Flash sees what Peter’s trying to do and shakes his head in confusion, Peter hoping that his jostled movements were enough for the watch to do its job - to send his location before the cops got there.

Peter can hear Flash start to talk again but it’s like his voice keeps getting further and further away, a ringing in Peter’s ears overtaking anything else as his chest heaved. His eyes start to feel heavy, Peter thinking that he needs to keep them open even if he can’t remember why. His lungs feel as if they were on fire as he tried - and failed - to catch his breath.

Peter can’t really bring himself to focus on anything else, feeling Flash’s hands pressing downward on his chest - trying to stop the bleeding.

It hurts to breathe. Hurts more than Peter can really make sense of, more than the last time that he’d been stabbed. But even if Peter starts to feel himself start to drift in and out, Flash’s voice is suddenly loud - making Peter’s eyes snap open.

“Don’t die, Parker! Come on man, don’t die okay?”

Flash sounds… concerned, more than Peter’s ever heard him before, feeling his hands start to shake.

“Stay with me, man alright? Please don’t die. Please, please don’t die.”

Peter doesn’t plan on it but the back of his throat feels thick - enough that he starts to choke, coughing up blood even as Flash’s eyes widen.

“Shit. Shit. What do I do? What do I do?” He can hear Flash stammer, his voice drifting away.

It’s a blinding pain that is relentless, even as Peter starts to feel that the darkness that had been edging around his vision start to become more and more prominent.

Before he fades off into unconsciousness, the last thing he hears is Flash’s pleas - begging Peter to stay awake.

* * *

For as many times as he’s woken up in the med bay - more times than he can even count, this is the first time Peter has woken up alone.

His mouth feels dry, the beeping from the heart monitor a little too loud - trying to open his eyes even if they feel heavy.

When he finally succeeds, Peter blinks a few times and tries to swallow down the scratchiness in his throat quietly - only to realize that there’s no one else in the room.

May or Tony were usually there by his bedside, if not one then both - fussing over him in a way that would sound exasperated to Peter if he knew they weren’t relieved he was okay. But taking in his surroundings, realizing he was alone gives Peter time to think - time to try and make sense about what happened without someone else telling him what did.

The man with a gun had a vendetta - clearly - though the idea that he knew about Peter is something he’d have to tell Tony about. It didn’t seem like he knew his secret, but knowing the relationship was enough of a red flag - Peter remembering the lengths Tony had gone to keep him out of the spotlight even as his unofficial “intern”.

He wonders if Michelle knows he’s okay, knowing she’ll be pissed that he got hurt - always asking Peter if the universe had it out for him.

Peter closed his eyes, wincing at the sudden onslaught to his senses. It was difficult to focus when he was hurt, as if everything in the world - sights, sounds, colors - all dialed themselves way up. But since no one was there, Peter knew they assumed he was still asleep or recovering. The perfect chance for him to get information about himself without filter.

He listens for May’s voice in the hallway but doesn’t hear it, the voices blurring together until he picks out one above the rest - the familiar cadence making Peter relax even as he focuses on the words.

“It’s not your fault, kid.”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, half-inclined to open his own eyes for how concerned Tony sounds. His mind immediately goes to Ned and the last time Tony had to console him, Peter getting dragged down by a car off the Brooklyn Bridge with Ned on the other line, panicking as Peter sank down lower.

But the voice that speaks up surprises Peter, remembering that it hadn’t been Ned with him today.

“But he could’ve died. I—I tried to stop it, Mr. Stark, sir and I just—I didn’t, I didn’t know what to do.”

Flash still sounds panicked, the anxiety in his voice so clear that even Peter starts to feel on edge. But then he hears Tony sigh, a more melancholic sound than frustration.

“None of us ever do.”

Peter hears something that sounds like choking, only to realize that Flash -  _ Flash _ \- is crying, assuming from how muffled the sound is that Tony was hugging him.

It’s bizarre enough for Peter to think he had to be dreaming, knowing that Tony had no admiration for the kid who picked on Peter like it was his job.

But then Peter knows that Tony understands Flash in a way that he never would - someone with privilege and money and a father who didn’t care, to never want for anything and to always be in control.

Though Peter could guess that it would’ve been terrifying for anyone to see him bleeding out on the street, for Flash it had to have been horrifying in more ways than one.

The fear of a person that he had harassed for years - dying in front of you, and being completely powerless to stop it.

Tony had never been a fan of Flash and his treatment towards Peter, but it seems as if he was looking past that - giving him comfort in a time when Flash really needed it, even if he didn’t deserve it.

It doesn’t surprise Peter, but it makes him smile all the same.

Flash quiets down after a few moments, Peter hearing him sniffle before Tony says, “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Peter’s him say, still sniffling. “I should head home.”

If Peter wasn’t so attuned to the conversation, he might’ve missed Flash’s next words - Flash speaking barely above a whisper.

“Can we, uh—can I stop by Peter’s room first? Just to see if he’s okay?”

Peter can’t see the expression on Tony’s face but he can guess it, his mind conjuring up the look of mild surprise and respect that he knows Tony would give.

“Sure thing, kid. Let’s go.”

Peter wills himself to relax, steadying his breathing as he hears them walk towards the room. He feels guilty now for listening in, but isn’t looking to admit it just yet - already planning on pretending to be asleep when they arrive.

But as their footsteps get closer, hearing Tony whisper something encouraging in Flash’s ears- he can’t help but want to smile.

He and Flash weren’t friends. But hearing Tony talk to him as if he was Ned, assuring Flash that he was going to be okay, Peter was almost glad that it had been Flash who had been there with him.

Peter didn’t need the assurances, he was fine - safe, protected and loved.

But Flash did. And even if Peter was the one laid up in a hospital room, recovering from a gunshot wound - he’s thankful for Tony’s presence, if only to help someone who desperately needed it.


	10. Depression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:
> 
> Unhealthy coping mechanism, indirect references to depression, anxiety, etc. 
> 
> This is not a stereotypical representation of depression - manifesting more as anxiety. However as depression and anxiety have a high comorbidity, I have combined the two for the purpose of this prompt. 
> 
> Please take care of yourself and contact a licensed health care provider if needed.
> 
> There is no shame in asking for help. We all need saving sometimes.

Peter was running. 

He loved to run - now, after the bite. It used to be the bane of existence, the physical ache of it burning in his lungs - the sharp pain in his side and the way his chest heaved if he pushed too hard too fast.

Before the bite that changed his life, asthma had stopped him. He bruised easily, always falling over himself. Peter was used to being called names but clumsy was one that he never got offended by.

He was - clumsy. Fumbling through life as best he could. Of all the changes that had happened in Peter’s young life, there had been one thing that was reliable.

Peter Parker couldn’t run. 

But then he got bit. 

And that changed too.

* * *

Peter’s arms pumped up and down, his legs moving faster and faster as he ran around the track. 

Peter could hear the buzzing of insects a mile away, could hear Colonel Rhodes’ snoring in his room on the third door from the right on the fourth floor. He could hear someone making coffee, probably Tony - listening for Pepper’s soft humming, a calming sound that reminded him so much of May.

The world around him whizzed by, Peter’s mind wandering to what she was doing - the question of whether he would be able to hear her from the Compound. 

Ned had asked him once, along with thirty other questions - about how far his powers could go. Peter didn’t have a good answer for him, not when the thought of subjecting himself to an even greater sensory overload sounded as appealing as eating some of May’s date loaf.

But as the wind rushed by his ears, his legs carrying him faster and faster around the track - Peter let his mind focus further - to hear beyond his immediate surroundings.

He heard a lake, animals skittering about. He could hear cars on the highway, a muddle of radio stations as a family argued about whose turn it was to pick a channel. 

Peter wanted to close his eyes, focus more but the track was in front of him - propelling him further. It was too much, focusing on more than one thing but Peter had the idea now and he couldn’t stop it - the energy and adrenaline from running as fast as he could for thirty minutes straight coursing through his veins like electricity.

It made Peter wonder if this is what it was like to be Thor, to feel pure, unadulterated power in your lungs, in your bloodstream - as if you were invincible. It was nauseating, almost intoxicating.

The thought of that made Peter skid to a stop, breathing heavy even if he knew he didn’t really need to. He wasn’t even tired yet, another thought wondering how much further he would have to go before he felt it.

The sounds from the highway were fading now, a low ringing in his ears as he focused back on himself and the compound. 

The sounds. His lungs. Running. 

Peter didn’t know his limits. 

But it hit him that he wanted to.

* * *

  
“You okay?”

Peter’s head snapped up, meeting Michelle’s studied gaze. He knew her well enough by now to see the concern in her eyes, a flash of something that makes Peter’s stomach flutter.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just tired, long patrol yesterday.”

Michelle narrows her eyes like she doesn’t believe him, sitting down across from him at the table. 

The cafeteria was loud - like it always was - but Peter’s senses were suddenly focused on Michelle. The hint of lavender from the lotion he knew she used, the soft and steady rhythm of her heartbeat across the table, the way her eyes seemed to search all over him and pierce right through him all at once.

They’d been dating for a little under a month and Peter still hadn’t gotten over the butterflies he felt anytime she was across from him. 

“You’re a bad liar. You should work on that.” Michelle replied, Peter watching as she sighed and brought her book bag down on the table.

“I’m not lying. Really, MJ. I’m fine.”

She reached for a massive book, laying it down in front of her before shoving her bag to the side before looking back up at him.

“Fine is a metaphorical state of being. Anyone who says they’re fine is trying to distract away from whatever it is they’re actually feeling.”

Michelle leans in, Peter’s heart pounding a little quicker even if he knew that she hated PDA - a curl falling over her face as she said, “Something’s going on with you. I don’t know what.”

She leaned back, opening the book and moving towards where her bookmark is. 

“When you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Peter just blinked at her, at a loss for what she was meaning. 

He _was_ fine - he knew he had a habit of hiding things from people, got lectured about holding back injuries from May and Tony all the time. 

But this wasn’t the case then. Nothing was wrong. He was tired, a little restless maybe but nothing else. 

Peter says nothing, waiting to see if Michelle was going to say anything further.

She doesn’t, looking as if she’s perfectly content to read in silence across from him. 

But there’s something in the way her eyes are looking down at the book, Peter hearing Ned walk up to them from the lunch line that signals that she isn’t reading a thing - almost waiting to see if he would open up about something. 

Peter can’t figure out what it could be, Ned’s presence focusing his attention elsewhere. But as Ned starts to chatter about the cafeteria’s move from French fries to onion rings, Peter can’t help but feel that even if Michelle’s eyes were focused on the book that she was really staring at him.

* * *

Peter was running. 

He could feel it again, energy in motion - thinking back to his physics class from sophomore year.

Newton’s Law states than an object in motion will stay in motion until an external force acts upon it. 

Peter knew this - from school and from life, seeing how his life shifted and changed over and over again.

His parents.

Ben.

The bite.

Peter was running, faster and faster - so much he couldn’t think, so fast that the world around him was a blur. 

Peter was running. Pushing himself, wanting to see how fast he could go. He didn’t get to run in the city, the unimaginable high that he got from flinging himself off the highest buildings in New York, the exhilaration of the wind rushing over him until he finally sent a hand out - grasping onto a web and flying upwards again.

It was invigorating, an irreplaceable feeling that Peter didn’t even have words for.

Yet running - moving his legs faster and faster - was something that he couldn’t do as Spider-Man, had never had the chance to do as Peter Parker. 

He wasn’t an athlete and didn’t want to be. But running in the early morning on his weekend visits at the compound - the oxygen flowing through his bloodstream as his muscles contracted, pushing himself further and further as everything else on the track but his breathing faded away - was another feeling that made Peter feel as if he’d never be able to replicate it. 

Peter was running. 

He never wanted to stop.

* * *

“You alright sweetheart?”

Peter looked to May, seeing the concern etched all over her face - her eyes shifting from his to his hands, Peter realizing he was tapping them against the table.

He stops, smiling as he says, “Yeah, May. I’m fine, promise.”

She tilts her head, the line on her forehead feeling as she looks over him. It was the same look that Michelle had given him, one that Ned now shared anytime Peter daydreamed a little too long. 

It was almost frustrating, how everyone stared at him.

He was fine. Peter didn’t know how else to explain it to them.

“Did something happen on patrol?”

“No, I’m— why does everyone think something is wrong?” Peter snaps. 

May pauses, Peter’s hands tapping on the table again. He exhales out of his mouth, shaking his head.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m… you’re just like, the third person to ask me what’s wrong when nothing is.”

May gets a look on her face that Peter can’t place, his fingers tapping on the table and his leg starting to shake. It looked almost resigned but worried, Peter suddenly feeling like he was going to jump out of his skin.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go out tonight.” May said cautiously, almost as if anticipating the argument brewing behind his eyes as he looked down to the table. 

“May--”

“Just for tonight, Pete. Just give yourself time to rest. To relax. You’ve been going at it so…” She trailed off, Peter feeling his shoulders sag at the worry in her voice. 

He didn’t want to worry her - he didn’t want to worry anyone. 

But it was a feeling in his lungs, in his veins - in his soul.

He had to push himself, he had to know how far he could go.

“I just want to be sure you’re taking care of yourself too, sweetheart. Just as much as you’re taking care of everyone else.” 

Peter brings his gaze up to meet her, seeing the tension in her face. He lets out a sigh, nodding his head.

“I know, I am. I will.” 

She waits, Peter putting on a smile. 

“I think there’s a new season of _Bake Off_ on Netflix. Maybe we could watch that?”

May smiles, bringing a hand across the table - Peter recognizing that she can see through how calm he was trying to be but letting him anyway, squeezing his hand as she took his into hers. 

“Sounds great, Pete. I’ll put it on after the dishes, alright?”

Peter nodded, squeezing her hand in return before they returned to their food - Peter feeling the tension in his stomach only deepen.

It’s something he feels again later that night - keeping his eyes open even as the sounds of the city around him almost scream at him, wanting to close his eyes but knowing it would give no relief - only focusing everything else around him even more.

His heart was racing, his leg twitching - shaking relentlessly. 

He could hear everything in the building. Everything in his borough. Peter thinks he could even hear all the way down to Manhattan, all the noise swirling together louder and louder. 

Peter knows he could wake up May. Call Michelle. Wake Tony.

But all Peter wanted to do was run. 

* * *

His lungs were on fire. 

It was a burning sensation, new in a way that Peter hadn’t felt before - not in years, not since before the bite. 

He hadn’t slept - feigning exhaustion with Tony as soon as it became acceptable, settling down into his bed with his clothes on - staring up at the ceiling as his whole body seemingly vibrated with… something.

Peter knew something was wrong - but what, he couldn’t name it. 

It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, this feeling of wanting to do more - to push, to keep going. 

A thought nagged at him in the back of his mind, the knowledge that he should just talk to someone - _anyone_ \- that it would make the electricity in his veins feel a little less sharper, a little less dangerous. 

When everyone had gone to sleep - Peter never being more thankful that these weekends at the Compound had Pepper there, that she somehow convinced Tony to go to bed at a reasonable time - he quietly crept out of bed, moving through the hallways until he found himself at the track. 

And then he started running.

He hadn’t stopped. For hours, going and going - pushing himself, just to see how far he could go until…

Peter didn’t even know what he was looking for, couldn’t even place what he was running _from_ \- even if the recognition that he was running from _something_ was right there on the tip of his tongue. 

The monotony of the track - moving over and over again in a circle that blended together until it was a haze to him, did nothing to calm the growing storm in his heart - Peter feeling his chest starting to heave as his lungs started to work in overtime.

The soft light of the moon had long faded, giving way to an inky black and blue - almost ethereal as the colors of the world around him shifted as the sun began to rise. 

The muscles in his legs actually started to ache now, his feet pounding the pavement feeling like knives the harder he moved - but Peter was relentless, so close to the edge - so close to finding his breaking point.

Peter felt it in his chest, in his lungs - the hammering of his heart in his ears as he continued to run, with less and less grace as he kept moving forward. His eyes started to water - from exhaustion or from something darker and much heavier, he didn’t know. 

Then light illuminated the room he was in, artificial, overhead light and Peter almost tripped - skidding to a stop as he struggled to breathe, looking to who had turned them on - feeling inexplicably like he had gotten caught. 

He both is and isn’t surprised to see Tony in the entryway, his eyes dark and hand braced against the entrance of the workout room. 

Peter pants, hands on his knees as he stares at him - the only sound in the room the wheezing coming from his mouth. 

He stares at Tony, waiting - knowing something was coming even if he couldn’t place what. Tony seems to consider it himself, Peter watching as the gears in his head seem to shift behind his eyes. 

Then Tony seems to decide, straightening up as he walks towards him - Peter’s heart still pounding in his chest, the sound of it in his ears drowning out the noise of the forest outside.

“You know, I tried taking up yoga once.”

Whatever Peter had anticipated, _that_ hadn’t been it - huffing in confusion as he tried to catch his breath. Tony seemed to take it as a response, continuing.

“It didn’t take. Too quiet, fell asleep half the time. Though I hear hot yoga’s all the rage now.” Tony snapped his fingers together, pointing to Peter. 

“Drinking, but you knew that. Everyone knows it. Don’t drink kid, not till you’re legal anyway. Trust me,” Tony walked forward, eyes still steadily on Peter as he closed the distance between them, “Habit’s a bitch to break.”

Peter tried to swallow down the ache in his chest, standing upright as Tony walked even closer. 

“Mr. Stark--”

“You know what the real kicker was though? The thing that made me realize that… something wasn’t right?” 

Peter waits, a twitch in his fingers - in his legs - everything within him begging to keep running, to keep going - to push forward. But there was something in Tony’s eyes that compelled him to stand still, to listen. 

“It was coffee. Couldn’t get enough of it. There was a whole thing when I had to have this _exact_ roast, to the point where I was… obsessed.” Tony was right in front of him now, Peter’s shoulders still shaking from as he tried to catch his breath. 

“I couldn’t function without it. I had to have this one, _specific_ blend. People chalked it up to,” Tony waved his hands around, “some kind of billionaire eccentricity but you know who caught on?” 

Peter knows the answer but doesn’t say it, not trusting the way his chest was heaving as his eyes started to water.

“Pepper. We weren’t together then, she was my assistant. But she knew, something was going on. Something I couldn’t articulate. That the coffee was more than just coffee.”

Peter lets out a sharp exhale, the tears stinging in his eyes as Tony brings a hand to his shoulder - keeping his gaze firmly on Tony as he grits his teeth. 

“The running is more than just the running, isn’t it?” 

Peter blinks a few times. “You--you knew?”

Tony smiles though it looks more like a grimace. “Kid, you think anything happens on this Compound that I don’t know about?”

Peter just stares back at him, at a loss for what to say. Tony presses forward, tightening the grip on his shoulder. 

“I figured you would come to me, when you were ready. Whatever it was, we could figure it out. But then talking with May... “ Tony sighed. “We’re worried about you, kid.”

“I’m _fine._ ” Peter’s voice cracks, though whether that’s from exhaustion or from the way it suddenly felt like something was lodged in his throat he didn’t know. “I’m okay, I’m… I don’t--”

“Pete.”

Peter’s jaw trembles, trying and failing to blink back the tears as one fell down his cheek. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t… I can’t explain it.”

Tony applies slight pressure to his shoulder, an acknowledgement to take his time - even as Peter’s own mind races in trying to give words to the thing he’d been feeling for far longer than he could ever admit.

He couldn’t pinpoint when it began, thinking back to if there had ever been a time when he’d ever really known any semblance of peace. 

His parents. 

Ben.

The bite. 

Any one thing would be enough to set someone over the edge, but it all piled on - over and over again. It was something he staved down, pushed away the more and more his life changed - for the good, for the _better_.

Peter wasn’t the weak asthmatic he’d been his whole life. He was strong, had impossibly quick reflexes - saved lives.

He had people who loved him - May, Tony, MJ, Ned.

He was _Spider-Man_. 

And yet it didn’t feel like enough. _He_ wasn’t enough.

He had to push himself, he had to see how far he could go - test the limits of who he could be to make sure that there was no one or nothing in his life that he would ever lose again. 

It’s a darkness in his soul that had fueled him, the guilt and frustration that he’d felt for years propelling him forward - just like the pain coursing through him like electricity had motivated him for the past few weeks, rushing towards a release he hadn’t even realized he’d been searching for. 

Peter lets out a sob, swallowing it back even as Tony’s other hand comes up to his other shoulder - forcing him to look at him.

“Pete.”

“I think… I’m. It’s too much. It’s… it’s just too much, you know?” Peter rambles, seeing the way Tony’s eyes water as he nods his head.

“Yeah, kid. It’s a lot.”

Peter lets out a sharp laugh. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about.” 

Tony smiles, bringing his hands to his face. “It’s _life_ , Pete. _Life_ is a lot. And it’s okay to feel as if it’s too much sometimes.”

Peter keeps nodding his head, the tears streaming down his cheeks feeling hot as he balled his hands into fists. 

“I just wanted to see how far I could go.”

Tony’s thumb wipes away some of his tears, Peter’s vision blurring more at the action.

“Don’t go so far that we can’t keep up, kid. We’re here alright? We’re here for you.”

A dam within Peter bursts, closing his eyes as he brings his head forward - Tony bringing him to his chest, wrapping his arms around him in a fierce hug. Peter brings his hands around him, holding as tight as he will allow himself - painfully aware that if he wasn’t careful, if he wasn’t in control - he could snap him in half. 

As Tony just held him tighter, Peter burrowing his head into his chest - he thinks of the irony of this moment, of wanting so badly to let go yet knowing that he never could. 

He just wanted to run, to keep going - to never _stop_ \- to feel as if he had some semblance of control in a life that Peter thinks he’s never had. 

But Peter can’t bring himself to speak - not now, not when he couldn’t make sense of what he was feeling any more than he could make sense of his surroundings when he ran - of the noises and sounds that kept him awake at night. 

Peter let Tony hug him, closing his eyes as he thought of Michelle’s quiet concern - of May’s tense plea. 

Something was wrong, something had been wrong… for a very long time. 

But Peter wasn’t alone - feeling Tony’s arms around him and hearing his hearbeat through his chest, the exhaustion of the night settling over him. 

Peter didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling. 

But he knew he was tired of running.   
  



	11. Holidays.

Tony laughed as Peter came bounding in to the lab, cheeks flushed from the cold. It took Tony a second to realize that Peter was carrying something, a little too concerned with how red his cheeks were - making a mental note to readjust the heaters in the kid’s suit. 

“Where’s the fire, kid?”

Peter smiled, planting the package - a present, from the haphazard wrapping job - on the lab desk. “Happy Boss’ Day, Mr. Stark!”

Tony blinked, before turning to face him. “Happy...  _ what _ ?”

Peter laughed as he began to unwrap the scarf around his neck, shedding layers as he always did the minute he walked into the lab. The kid ran a mile a minute half the time, rushing through life like he couldn’t waste a second. Yet May raised her nephew right, Peter dutifully folding his jacket over and balling his gloves into the pocket. 

Peter’s smile was so bright it was almost beaming, running a hand through his hair from the mess that his beanie had made. 

“Boss’ Day. It’s a day to celebrate bosses and since you’re the best one I’ve had, I thought we should celebrate.”

“I’m the  _ only _ boss you’ve ever had, squirt.” Tony made a face, throwing a hand up. “What the hell am I saying, I’m not your  _ boss _ , Pete. I’m your--” Tony caught himself off, Peter still working on his layers - thankfully pretending to be too engrossed in unbuttoning his coat. 

What  _ was _ he to Peter? They hadn’t really discussed it. After getting the riot act from May - and then from Pepper - Tony knew his hands-off approach to helping Peter wasn’t something he could continue. 

He hadn’t wanted that either really. But Tony had been so terrified of fucking it up that even in trying to be better than Howard had ever been, Tony had still managed to put the kid in a position where he brought down on a plane of his own gear in a glorified onesie, nearly killing himself in the process. 

It’d been almost a year since then, enough that Tony didn’t think he would somehow harm the kid by virtue of being around him - but Tony still wasn’t sure what to call himself. 

Tony swallows that down, shaking his head. 

“You really didn’t have to give me anything, Pete. I mean I appreciate the thought but what even is boss’ day? It’s a made up holiday.”

“All holidays are made up, Mr. Stark.” Peter shrugged, shoving the package in front of Tony - forcing him to open it. 

Tony rolls his eyes but takes it anyway, unwrapping it with the same amount of finesse that had gone into wrapping it. 

Tony’s heart skips a beat when he sees what the package contains, a black frame with a picture of the two of them - posing with Peter’s intern certificate, laughing at the memory of that day. 

Peter hadn’t really cared about making his internship “official” in any capacity - happy to work in his lab without any kind of recognition. But Pepper and May had been insistent, something Tony had agreed on, that even if Peter couldn’t get the public credit he deserved as Spider-Man, that he should at least have the ability to have proof of his work as Peter Parker.

Tony let the wrapping paper fall, holding the picture gently as he smiled. He remembered getting Happy to take the picture, knowing they took a dozen more than they needed to - and was tickled that Peter chose one of the sillier ones to commemorate as a gift for him. 

Peter takes his silence for disapproval though, immediately speaking up. 

“I thought it’d be a good idea, you know, as a joke. But also,  _ not _ a joke cause I know you’re not my ‘boss’ boss, but you’re the closest to one I’ve had and May said this was her favorite and I agreed and--”

“Kid, I love it.”

Peter paused, letting out a long exhale. “Wait, you do?”

Tony smiled, looking up from the picture to see the relief in Peter’s eyes - heart constricting at the idea that Peter would think he wouldn’t love anything that he ever thought to give him.

He’d never been really good at articulating his emotions to the people he cared about but he’d hoped that Peter - by now - would recognize that there was nothing he could physically give that could ever compare to what Peter freely gave by virtue of existing and allowing Tony to be a part of his life. 

A kindness that overwhelmed Tony, the goodness that seemingly radiated from every fiber of Peter’s being - one that seemed increasingly improbable considering the hell he’d faced after barely crossing puberty. 

Dead parents. A dead uncle. Money problems. Health issues. Tony already knew the kind of kid Peter was from the moment he met him, on a small twin-size bed - calmly stating something that Tony now deeply knew was true, the sincerity of Peter’s responsibility to do good in the world. 

And now months later, having actually had the chance to get to know Peter, holding a heartfelt gift that Peter had no doubt spent hours agonizing over - for a made-up holiday no less - made his heart soar for how much the kid cared about him. 

“Yeah, kid.” Tony cleared his throat, swallowing down something he couldn’t give a name to just yet, smiling back at Peter, “It’s perfect. May’s got a good eye for these kind of things.”

Peter’s smile returned in full force, nodding as he walked forward to lean over Tony’s shoulder. “Yeah she said the bunny ears one was the best choice. The uh, ‘best representation our true selves’ or something like that.” 

Tony knew Peter probably remembered the exact words May had said, but was pretending to be casual - even if Tony could sense how relieved he was that he’d liked the picture. 

“Well, look kid here--” Tony made a show of placing it on the lab bench, Peter snickering as he motioned to it with his hands, “What better place for it than where we spend half our time anyway?” 

Peter nodded. “Sounds great, Mr. Stark. So what are we working on today?”

* * *

“Tony.”

Tony blinked a few times, realizing he’d been staring off into nothing again - seeing Pepper’s warm smile, the concern all over her face as Morgan babbled in the background, hearing Rhodey messing around in the kitchen and Happy’s disgruntled murmur. 

“You still with me?”

Tony sighed, nodding as he turned back to face her. “Yeah, I’m good, Pep. I’m good.”

He leaned back on the couch, looking towards where Happy was taking out his aggression on a bowl of mashed potatoes, no doubt still pissed that Rhodey had forbade him from messing around with the turkey.

“Sweethearts, when will the food be ready?”

“It’ll be ready when it’s ready, Tones.” Rhodey sniped back, Tony looking back and winking at Pepper. 

“You should’ve stepped in, you know how particular Happy gets about his spices.”

Morgan gestures for Tony then, leaning up from the couch to grab her - standing up as she starts to wave her hand around, sucking on one of her fists as Tony starts to bounce. 

“And  _ you _ know how Rhodey gets about people invading his space in the kitchen. It’ll be fine, they didn’t burn the place down.” 

Morgan whines, Tony bouncing a little more before nodding towards the hallway. “Gonna put little miss down for her nap. Mind the other kids while I’m gone?” 

Pepper laughs, before waving him off - moving to get off the couch and likely to see how she could negotiate some peace between the two of them before they sat down to eat. 

She was good at it, negotiating - and even if Tony had ulterior motives in making her CEO to SI at the time, he never regretted it. 

Morgan starts to squirm in his arms, her eyes drooping as she tried to fight against the sleep she desparately needed, Tony bounce-walking towards her bedroom.

“Shh, come on kiddo. You’re gonna need your energy to eat whatever Uncle Happy’s put in the potatoes.” 

Tony tilted his head to the side. “On second thought, maybe you’ll skip the potatoes. We never know if--”

He stops in his tracks, the picture in the hallway almost mocking him. He’d forgotten about it, that first Thanksgiving with Peter and May - inviting them to the penthouse that he and Pepper had bought in the city after selling the Tower, one that had been quickly sold and disregarded after…

Tony swallows down the memory and the grief all at once, eyes stinging as Morgan continued to squirm - his eyes traveling all over the picture. 

It was all of them - Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, May. And Peter, smile just as bright as he remembered it - pointing towards the turkey hat they’d made as a joke. But what hurt worst wasn’t just the joy on their faces - it was the smile on his own face, wearing an equally ridiculous turkey hat. 

Tony had found an irreplaceable source of joy in the year after everything, in the year after they’d  _ lost _ \- yet seeing the picture in front of him reminded him when his life hadn’t been easy but had been just as full, the knowledge that he’d acted as a father to someone long before Pepper had ever told him the news. 

Tony never forgot Peter - the overwhelming and earth-shattering grief of losing millions almost meaningless in the face of the one bright spot in the universe that was gone - but it was seeing the picture of all of them, holding his daughter in his arms - that Tony realized that for as happy as he was to have found some island of peace in the middle of a storm, that his life would never complete. That his life would always be missing the boy who had been like a son to him in all but name. 

He feels the tears in his eyes as Morgan starts to get antsy, absentmindedly bouncing again as his eyes danced over to where May was smiling, thankful in a twisted way that she was gone too. 

Tony didn’t know where the dusted went - or if they went anywhere at all, the memory of Peter’s terrified cries, holding on to him as a lifeline only to drift away haunting Tony in his nightmares. But if there was a somewhere, Tony could only hope that they were all together. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Tony whispers to Morgan, half-swaying now in the hallway as a tear falls down his face. 

“You’re okay.” Tony’s breath catches, closing his eyes as he remembered when he’d said the same thing to another child, trying to push down the grief threatening to overwhelm him. He could still hear the chattering in the kitchen, could feel Morgan lean her head against his chest as he ran a hand up and down her back. It was enough to ground him into the moment, if only until he put her down for a nap. 

“Happy Thanksgiving, Pete.” Tony whispered, blinking away some of the tears as he walked down the hall. He had a lot to to be thankful for, holding one of the best things he’d ever been given. 

Yet as he stepped into Morgan’s room, Tony couldn’t help but feel the deep well of grief for everything that he had lost. 

* * *

“Mr. Stark?” 

Tony startled, blinking a few times. He tilted his head towards the voice to see Peter - peeking out from the open doorway. 

“Hey kid, what’s going on? Do I need to--” Tony went to sit up, the mechanical arm whining as he braced himself against the bench but Peter rushed from behind the door, holding his hand up.

“No, no everything’s fine.” He laughed, nodding back towards the doorway. “May’s got some kind of surprise going with Morgan and I was given strict instructions that you should  _ not _ come in.” 

Tony made a face. “Kid, I was asleep. I wouldn’t have known what the hell they were doing anyway.” Tony watched as Peter shifted back and forth, rubbing his hands together. 

“Get back inside, it’s too cold out here for you without a coat.”

Peter shrugged, coming to sit next to him on the bench anyway. “I’m fine. Besides,” Peter nudged him with his elbow, “ _ you’re _ one to talk. Didn’t Dr. Cho say that you weren’t supposed to expose your arm to extreme temperatures until you knew for sure if it was a good fit?” 

Tony scoffed, throwing his arm around Peter - Peter instinctually leaning in closer, “Forty-five degrees is hardly  _ extreme _ . Honestly kid, I’m a little concerned for our planet. This close to Christmas and barely any snow on the ground.”

Peter shivered, Tony rubbing his hand up and down Peter’s arm - glad that he’d chosen to sit on the side where he’d actually feel warmth rather than the coolness of the metallic arm, one that Tony didn’t dare admit felt a little tight from the chill in the air. 

“Whatever you say, Mr. St-Stark.”

Tony laughed, shaking his head as hugged Peter tighter. “Well have to find some other place to hide out, kid. You’re gonna turn into a spider-popsicle any minute now.”

Peter laughed, Tony’s heart warming at the sound. “You know they sell those now? I’m a b-big hit.”

“Always have been, kid.” Tony whispered, looking out over the lake, knowing they had to move sooner rather than later considering the kid was already starting to shiver more than what was normal.

Yet Tony just held onto Peter a little tighter, remembering all too well what the last Christmas season had been like - mere months before Tony had risked everything. 

It’d been a loud holiday, Morgan’s squeals at the bike Happy had got her making his heart skip a beat. He could faintly hear her chattering through the window, no doubt talking May’s ear off about some story, knowing May was patient enough to ask all the right questions to get her talking more. 

It was seamless, fitting them back into his life as if they’d never left - though Tony knows the scars of losing those five years were forever imprinted onto all of them, the loss of his arm being the most obvious. 

But it was also in the unspoken ways - May’s watchful eye as Peter went off to some emergency, knowing the last time he did so that they were both blipped into oblivion. 

It was in the way Morgan would ask Peter a million questions, curious about seemingly everything Peter had ever done - as if she somehow understood that he had years of knowledge of Tony that she never would. 

But it was also in the way Peter carried himself, Tony’s grip tightening at the memory of the past summer - knowing he’d had to face some jackass by himself, when Tony was still recovering from a snap that had saved billions of lives and yet had almost ended his own. 

It wasn’t all bad changes, the flush of Peter’s cheeks not from the cold but from young love, telling Tony all about the girlfriend he wanted Tony to meet. 

And even for the grief that still found its way into his heart, the knowledge of just how close he’d been to having Peter lose someone else important to him inching its way into his soul, Tony couldn’t help but be thankful that it wasn’t the case - that this was the first of many Christmases, of many holidays together. 

Holidays filled with love. 

Holidays filled with  _ hope _ . 

Hope for another tomorrow. Hope that despite how shitty and awful the hand that had been dealt to all of them, that they had a second chance - the promise of being able to create new memories, together. 

Peter shivered once more, bringing Tony out of his thoughts - leaning out of the embrace as he nudged Peter to move.

“Wha--”

“Come on, kid. I’m serious, you need to get your temperature up.”

“But we can’t--”

Tony waved him off, standing up from the bench and nodding towards the garage. “I checked out those specs you sent over, for the new webshooters? I think I got some parts lying around that could help you out.”

Peter’s rubs his hands together, smiling back at Tony - both of them knowing full well that Peter didn’t need his help to figure out any of his gear. He’d proven that in London, proved that over and over again with watching out over the city - Tony’s retirement forcing him to the sidelines in more ways than one. 

But Peter takes the distraction, standing up so fast that it makes Tony’s head spin. “Sounds great, Mr. Stark. Let’s go.”

Peter goes to walk ahead of him, Tony standing in place - watching until Peter turns back, tilting his head.

“You coming?”

Tony smiles, hearing Morgan’s peal of laughter from inside the house - seeing the curious smile on Peter’s face and nods.

“Yeah, let’s go kid.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I love it when people scream at me in the comments. Or come hangout with me on [tumblr](https://seek-rest.tumblr.com)


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